THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Ben  B.  Lindsey 


PEEWEE 


PEEWEE 

By 

William  MacHarg 

Co- Author  of 

"The  Indian  Drum," 

"Blind  Men's  Eyes," 

etc. 


Chicago 

The  Reilly  &  Lee  Co. 
1922 


Copyright  1921 

by 
The  Reilly  &  Lee  Co. 


All  Rights  Reserved 


Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


Peewee 


CONTENTS  Al  1 1 0  5  f 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

1  THE  PUZZLE  OF  THE  SHADOWS 9 

2  SHAKING  A  FAMILY  TREE 31 

3  "I  CAN'T  HURT  HER  LIKE  THAT  "...   49 

4  PEEWEE  CANNOT  STAY  AWAY 65 

5  A  DIFFERENT  SORT  OF  Kiss 77 

6  AN   UNDESIRABLE   GRANDFATHER 89 

7  A  VISTA  OF  FORTUNE 102 

8  THE  MAN  OF  THE  BIG  HOUSE 119 

9  YOUTH  AND  AGE  MATCH  WITS 135 

10  A  DIFFICULT  SURRENDER .153 

11  A  COUNTRY  OF  CALAMITY 166 

12  COMING  TO  A  SHOW-DOWN 182 

13  BACK  TO  THE  BIG  HOUSE 199 

14  SHE  NEVER  HAD  A  CHILD 215 

15  THE  LONESOMENESS  OF  CROWDS 229 

16  WHO  Is  MRS.  CORD? 244 

17  IN  His  MOTHER'S  ARMS 256 

1  -' 

-B — iL\J\Jfitr~tt  x_J£ 


PEEWEE 


PEEWEE 


Peewee,  as  he  preferred  to  call  himself  —  H. 
Seabury,  as  he  was  known  to  certain  municipal 
and  county  authorities  who  would  have  confined 
him  in  some  home  for  dependent  children  if  they 
had  known  where  he  was  —  was  advancing  ner 
vously  in  West  Madison  Street,  Chicago.  He 
looked  at  intervals  apprehensively  over  his 
shoulder  at  a  man  following  some  thirty  feet  be 
hind  him,  noting  that  the  man  timed  his  steps 
with  his  own.  When  Peewee  hastened,  the  man 
hastened;  when  Peewee  slowed,  he  slowed;  when 
Peewee  stood  still,  the  man  stood  still.  The  boy's 
tentative  conclusion  from  this  was  that  the  man 
was  an  agent  of  the  Juvenile  Court. 

From  his  earliest  memory  —  when  he  had  been 
one  of  innumerable  little  figures,  all  under  three 


10  Peewee 

feet  in  height,  clothed  in  washable  garments  of 
white  and  blue,  who  marched  to  meals  under  dis 
cipline  of  women  who  wore  wide  white  starched 
hats  —  agents  of  the  Juvenile  Court  had  been 
the  only  persons  who  concerned  themselves  ac 
tively  about  Peewee.  Who  his  father  and 
mother  had  been  he  did  not  know.  For  busi 
ness  reasons,  when  asked  his  age,  he  answered 
ten;  he  was,  as  established  by  court  records, 
probably  not  more  than  eight,  and  even  for 
that  age  he  was  surprisingly  small.  The  name 
Peewee,  which  he  much  preferred,  had  been 
given  him  by  his  associates  in  the  orphanage 
because  of  this  diminutive  size;  his  other  name, 
which  he  had  carried  officially  since  the  age 
of  three,  had  been  manufactured  in  court  for 
him,  in  order  that  he  might  have  a  name,  his 
own  not  being  known.  He  had  run  away  from 
the  asylum  at  the  age  of  six.  He  had  run  away, 
within  another  year,  from  a  "Boys'  Home."  His 
life  since  then  had  been  a  succession  of  confine 
ments  in  various  charitable  institutions  and  of 
astute  escapes.  The  means  by  which  he  provided 
for  his  existence,  when  the  county  or  charity  were 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  11 

not  providing  for  it,  was  by  selling  newspapers. 
Peewee  sold  his  newspapers  between  four 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  seven  —  the  hours 
during  which  children  are  not  subject  to  inter 
ference  by  the  authorities  on  the  downtown 
streets.  He  could  not  sell  them  on  the  corners, 
which  are  places  of  proprietorial  right  and  them 
selves  are  bought  and  sold ;  so  he  sold  them  in  the 
middle  of  the  block,  where  no  supervision  is  exer 
cised.  His  trade  was  mostly  feminine.  What 
ever  the  boy's  ancestry  had  been,  he  had  a  face 
which  sent  a  pang  to  every  childless  woman's 
heart  —  a  distinctive,  unf orgetable  face,  large 
violet  eyes  shaded  by  long  lashes  of  deepest 
widow's  black  and  a  mouth  of  childish  innocence. 
Dirt,  to  which  he  paid  no  heed,  and  disfiguring 
garments  which  had  descended  to  him  from  some 
larger  boy,  could  not  make  him  unattractive  to 
women.  "Girls"  of  thirty,  working  in  offices  and 
living  in  clubs,  went  three  blocks  out  of  their  way 
to  buy  their  papers  of  him  at  night,  and  other 
women,  passing  to  or  from  their  limousines  — 
women  with  clear  eyes  and  transparent  skins,  giv 
ing  out  scents  of  perfumes  and  of  furs  —  ex- 


12  Peewee 

claimed  over  him  and  stopped  and  forced  their 
escorts  to  give  him  money. 

Peewee  was  inordinately  wise  for  his  age, 
though  more  wise  in  evil  than  in  good,  but  he 
had  never  tried  to  find  out  the  nature  of  his  feel 
ings  towards  these  women.  Something  mostly 
pleasant,  but  partly  painful,  was  stirred  in  him  by 
them.  He  took  pride  in  the  methods  he  had 
acquired  of  attracting  their  attention.  When, 
however,  he  had  accomplished  this,  another  feel 
ing  not  capable  of  analysis  succeeded ;  an  internal 
warning  told  him  that  it  might  bring  tears.  He 
could  not  remember  ever  having  cried ;  he  shrank 
from  tears  and  ridiculed  them,  as  he  did  all  soft 
things.  He  put  his  dirty  hand  surreptitiously 
against  the  women's  furs  and  breathed  deeply  in 
their  scents.  When  they  had  passed  on,  leaving 
the  probability  that  he  would  never  see  them 
again,  a  momentary  feeling  of  loss  and  loneliness 
came  to  him;  then  he  turned  his  attention  again 
to  the  street,  where  something  interesting  was 
always  happening. 

Two  other  things  were  characteristic  of  him: 
Places  —  this  was  the  first  one  —  were  indiffer- 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  13 

ent  to  him.  When  he  encountered  unpleasant 
circumstances  anywhere,  he  prevented  their  repe 
tition  by  going  away  from  that  place  and  subse 
quently  avoiding  it.  People  in  mass  —  this  was 
the  second  characteristic  —  were  intensely  inter 
esting  to  him.  If  two  persons  stopped  to  talk 
upon  the  sidewalk,  he  went  close  to  them  and  lis 
tened;  he  was  an  expert  on  the  multi-logue  of 
crowds.  He  was  fully  conscious  of  his  own  in 
significance  and  that  people  talked  in  his  pres 
ence  as  though  he  were  not  there. 

Peewee's  independence  made  him  a  problem  to 
the  authorities.  If  the  man  now  following  him 
was  an  agent  of  the  Juvenile  Court,  his  latest 
long  period  of  liberty,  during  which  his  expert- 
ness  had  made  recapture  seem  almost  improbable, 
was  now  about  to  terminate. 

He  was  beginning  to  consider,  however,  that 
his  follower  did  not  act  like  any  officer  of  a  pub 
lic  sort.  Such  an  officer,  having  suspected  or 
identified  Peewee,  would  have  laid  hands  upon 
him  at  once.  He  would  hardly  have  followed, 
as  this  man  had  done,  for  so  many  blocks  that 
the  boy  long  ago  had  lost  count.  At  Desplaines 


14  Peewee 

Street,  and  again  at  Halsted  Street,  Peewee, 
with  a  cautious  eye  upon  the  man,  had  attempted 
to  turn  south.  In  each  instance  the  man  had  has 
tened  forward  within  arm's  reach;  then  Peewee, 
in  panic,  had  resumed  his  former  course.  That 
the  man  had  fallen  promptly  back  to  the  position 
he  had  held  before  gave  grounds  for  an  inference 
that  he  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  molest  Pee 
wee  so  long  as  they  continued  to  go  west. 

Yet  even  panic  could  not  drive  Peewee  much 
further  out  of  the  districts  which  he  knew.  He 
observed  frequent  half-open  doors  giving  upon 
stairways  which  went  upward  in  the  buildings 
that  they  passed;  other  doors  led  down  to  base 
ments.  He  reflected  that  in  a  neighborhood  with 
which  he  was  acquainted  some  of  these  would 
have  offered  opportunity  for  abrupt  escape. 
There  were  no  openings  upon  the  street  front 
except  doors,  for  the  alleys  here  ran  east  and 
west.  To  attain  an  alley  he  would  have  to  turn 
either  south  or  north.  He  had  already  twice 
tried  south;  at  the  next  street  intersection,  he 
darted  quickly  north.  But  he  had  not  gone  twenty 
feet  when  he  felt  the  man's  clutch  upon  his  wrist. 

Previous  experience  now  guided  Peewee;  he 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  15 

fell  at  once  into  a  docile  walk.  He  did  not  speak 
and  the  man  did  not  speak.  They  walked  on 
steadily  a  block  more  to  Washington  Boulevard, 
and  there  the  man  turned  them  west.  As  Peewee 
looked  up,  the  man  rewarded  his  docility  by  dis 
playing  a  police  badge.  But  this  badge  of  the 
Burke  and  Mundy  private  detective  agency  only 
gave  a  new  perplexity  to  the  boy.  The  varieties 
of  police  were  known  to  him.  He  could  under 
stand  that  a  private  detective  might  have  pre 
ferred  not  to  lead  him  through  the  streets  so 
long  as  he  himself  was  following  the  direction 
wished.  But  what  could  any  private  detective 
want  of  him?  And  where  could  he  be  taking 
him?  There  were  no  court  rooms  out  this  way. 
Washington  Boulevard,  east  of  Union  Park, 
is  a  district  which  the  city,  having  once  made,  has 
now  unmade.  Great  houses  front  the  asphalt 
where  the  motors  roll;  but  the  original  inhab 
itants  no  longer  occupy  these  houses.  The  brick 
and  limestone  faces  are  defaced  by  paint;  the 
iron  railings  of  thirty-five  years  ago  are  disinte 
grating  with  rust.  Delicatessens  have  crept  into 
the  basements ;  manufacturing  has  taken  the  first 
floors;  the  stables  have  become  machine  shops. 


16  Peewee 

On  nearly  every  door  furnished  rooms  are  adver 
tised  for  rent. 

The  house  in  front  of  which  the  man  halted 
Peewee  was  detached  —  a  limestone  pile  of 
former  grandeur,  surrounded  by  a  small  un 
kempt  yard.  The  man  seemed  familiar  with 
the  place.  He  rang  the  bell  decisively,  and 
when,  after  an  interval,  it  was  answered  by  a 
slatternly  old  woman  with  gray  hair  falling  over 
her  eyes,  he  pushed  her  aside  and  led  Peewee  in. 
They  ascended  a  musty  smelling  stair  to  an 
equally  musty  smelling,  dusky  hall.  The  door 
upon  which  the  man  knocked,  after  following 
this  hall,  was  opened  by  a  frivolous  looking  col 
ored  girl  in  high-heeled,  expensive  shoes.  The 
man  and  the  business  he  came  upon  appeared 
known  to  her,  for  she  motioned  them  to  come  in 
without  making  any  inquiry.  She  looked  curi 
ously  at  the  boy.  The  man  pushed  Peewee 
ahead  of  him  into  a  room  of  what  had  been  once 
an  ornate  suite  of  double  bedrooms,  dressing 
room  and  bath.  Only  part  of  these  rooms  were 
visible ;  the  door  of  the  furthest  room  was  closed. 
Curtains  of  imitation  lace,  gray  with  dust,  cov- 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  17 

ered  the  windows  of  the  room  they  were  in,  which 
seemed  now  used  as  a  salon.  The  furniture  was 
of  the  second-hand  sort  and  had  been  maltreated. 
The  yellowed  keys  of  the  small  piano  were 
charred  by  cigarette  stubs. 

The  negro  girl  went  away,  teetering  on  her 
high  heels,  and  could  be  heard  knocking  at  one 
of  the  inner  doors.  Then  a  middle-aged  trained 
nurse  appeared.  She  too  looked  curiously  at 
Peewee. 

"  This  is  the  boy?  "  she  asked. 

"  This  is  him,"  the  man  replied. 

The  nurse  looked  at  Peewee.  "  You're  the 
little  boy  that  sells  newspapers  on  Madison  Street 
between  Wells  Street  and  La  Salle? " 

Peewee  felt  more  at  ease  in  the  presence  of 
the  nurse.  What  it  was  that  was  happening  to 
him,  he  could  not  divine,  but  it  was  at  least  noth 
ing  in  the  regular  course  of  justice  and  charity. 
"  Yes'm,"  he  confirmed. 

"  I  picked  him  up  this  evening,"  the  man  ex 
plained,  "  after  he'd  sold  out  his  papers.  He 
was  headed  this  direction  and  I  let  him  come  and 
only  laid  hands  upon  him  a  few  blocks  back.  The 


18  Peewee 

lady  received  the  report  I  and  the  other  opera 
tive  made  to  the  chief?  " 

"  I  believe  so.  Is  there  something  you  want  to 
add  to  that? " 

"  No;  that  covers  all  that  we  found  out." 
'  You  understand  that  you  are  to  leave  him 
here." 

"  That  was  the  instructions." 

The  man  went  out.  When  the  door  had  closed 
upon  him,  Peewee  felt  more  comfortable.  He 
was  less  afraid  of  women  than  of  men,  and  the 
sex  of  this  middle-aged  trained  nurse  gave  him 
confidence  in  her.  The  look  of  curiosity  on  her 
face  had  become  a  more  definitely  centered  in 
terest. 

"  How  far  can  you  remember  back,  little 
boy?  "  she  asked. 

He  merely  stared  up  at  her. 

"  You  don't  understand,"  she  decided.  "  When 
you  think  back,  as  far  back  as  you  can  to  the 
time  when  you  were  very  little,  what  is  it  that 
you  think  of? " 

He  put  one  foot  upon  the  other  —  the  instinc 
tive  expression  of  embarassment  among  those 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  19 

who  stand  upon  wet  pavements.  His  memory 
traveled  backward  to  the  Greenwood  Boys' 
Home. 

"Are  you  thinking  back?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  What  is  it  you  remember?  " 

"  The  boys." 

The  reply  seemed  unintelligible  to  her. 

"  Can't  you  remember  anything  before  that?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"What?" 

He  returned  mentally  to  the  orphan  asylum. 

"  The  Sisters." 

She  seemed  again  not  to  understand. 

"  Before  that,"  she  insisted.  "  Don't  you  re 
member  anyone  earlier  still? " 

"  No'm." 

"  Not  a  single  person?  " 


"  Not  —  your  mother?  " 
"  No'm." 

She  took  his  hands,  holding  him  in  front  of 
her. 

"  I'm   going   to   take    you   in   to    see    your 


20  peewee 

mother,"  she  said.  "  That's  why  you  were 
brought  here  —  to  see  her.  You  must  be  very 
careful.  You  must  answer  if  she  speaks  to  you, 
but  you  mustn't  talk  much.  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"  Yes'm." 

:<  Then  wait  here  a  minute." 

She  left  him,  and  he  looked  after  her  with  in 
creasing  interest.  Was  his  mother  here?  What 
the  nurse  had  said  seemed  to  make  that  certain. 
The  nurse  could  not  be  his  mother;  she  had 
spoken  of  taking  him  to  her.  His  mother  could 
not  be  the  old  woman  who  had  opened  the  street 
door.  The  operative  had  spoken  of  a  lady.  He 
hoped,  if  the  lady  was  his  mother,  she  would 
prove  to  be  pretty.  He  recalled  some  of  the 
women  who  had  given  him  money,  and  hoped  she 
might  be  one  of  those. 

The  nurse  returned  and  led  him  to  the  closed 
door  of  the  furthest  room  and  opened  it  and 
pushed  him  in  ahead  of  her.  He  blinked  as  he 
peered  about  with  interest,  for  the  room  was 
partly  darkened. 
It  was  a  large  bedroom,  with  furniture  which, 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  21 

like  that  in  the  other  rooms,  had  passed  through 
different  hands.  A  multitude  of  frippery  toilet 
articles,  defaced  by  misuse,  scattered  the  dresser 
among  portraits  of  several  different  men  in  tinsel 
frames.  There  was  a  stand  with  medicines,  a 
pallet  for  the  nurse,  a  large  bed.  The  room  was 
filled  with  a  heavy  scent  of  perfume.  As  by 
degrees  the  objects  in  the  room,  which  had 
appeared  to  him  at  first  only  as  outlines, 
acquired  distinctness,  Peewee  surveyed  with  dis 
appointment  the  woman  in  the  bed,  who  moved 
excitedly  at  sight  of  him.  She  was  not  now 
pretty,  whatever  she  might  once  have  been. 
Her  blonde  hair  was  drawn  tightly  back  from  a 
narrow  forehead  marked  with  fine  blue  veins; 
her  full  lips  were  cracked  and  puffed;  her 
cheek  bones  seemed  pushing  through  the  tight 
drawn,  hectic  skin,  and  her  eyes  were  startlingly 
wild  and  bright. 

"  She  is  very  ill,"  the  nurse  whispered  to  him 
"  Be  careful." 

"  If  you  will  go  out! "  the  woman  said  to  the 
nurse. 

The  nurse  hesitated  doubtfully. 


22  Peewee 

"  If  you  will  go  out ! "  the  woman  repeated. 

The  nurse  went  out  and  closed  the  door  upon 
them. 

"  Come  here."  The  woman  stretched  out  to 
him  her  thin,  blue-veined  hands  covered  with 
rings. 

He  was  not,  he  told  himself  firmly,  afraid  of 
her;  there  was  therefore  no  name  for  the  feeling 
aroused  in  him  by  the  wildness  of  her  manner. 
It  was  this  feeling  that  forced  him  to  obey  her. 
She  caught  his  hands  with  her  burning  hot  ones 
and  drew  him  to  her. 

"  My  baby!  "  she  whispered,  "  My  baby!  I've 
got  you  back.  You've  been  away  from  me  so 
long." 

He  resisted  as  her  hands  crept  upward  on 
his  arms  and  clutched  him  down  against  her 
breast. 

'  You  must  kiss  me,"  she  said.  '  You  know 
—  your  mother.  A  pretty  kiss  for  mother." 

She  turned  his  face  between  her  hands,  and 
pressed  her  fiery  lips  hard  upon  his.  He  could 
hear  the  nurse  pacing  up  and  down  outside  the 
door  uneasily. 


23 

The  woman's  trembling  fingers  began  to 
smooth  his  hair.  ;<  They've  dressed  you  wrong," 
she  said.  "  I  don't  like  this  suit.  They  should 
have  put  on  your  velvet  suit  and  the  Eton 
collar.  We  will  tell  them  you  must  have  that 
on,  and  we'll  go  riding  in  the  park.  Would 
you  like  to  ride  in  the  park  with  mother?  Would 
you  like  to  have  a  pony?  My  baby!  My  little 
Walter!  You  have  been  away  so  long.  Now 
you  will  never  go  away  again.  You  will  stay 
with  me  always.  Unless  something  happens. 
So  much  has  happened." 

Her  words  seemed  to  bring  some  thought  to 
her;  her  gaze  wandered  uncertainly. 

"  If  something  happens — "  she  repeated. 

Her  grasp  slackened,  and  he  drew  himself 
away,  held  only  by  one  hand. 

"  I  sent  the  nurse  away.  They  don't  know 
I'm  so  clever.  Can  you  write,  Walter? " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Names?    Can  you  write  names?  " 

"  I  can  write  down  the  letters." 

"  Go  over  to  the  dresser.  Open  the  top 
drawer.  Do  you  find  some  cards  there?  Men's 


24  peewee 

cards.  Men's  cards!  Take  any  one  of  them. 
We  only  need  the  back  of  it.  Have  you  got 
one?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Is  there  a  pencil  in  the  drawer?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Bring  it  here.  Bring  the  card  here  with  it. 
Rest  it  here  on  the  bed.  Write  '  W  ' —  big 
'  W '." 

He  wet  the  pencil  tip  against  his  tongue  and 
did  as  she  directed. 

"  Write  'a'—  little  V.  Write  it  close  behind 
the  other.  Now  '  1'.  Now  '  t '." 

He  obeyed,  laboriously  forming  the  letters  as 
she  directed  until  they  reached  clear  across  the 
card. 

"  Can  you  read  what  it  spells?" 

He  hesitated.  "  Markyn,"  he  said,  looking 
uncertainly  at  the  last  word. 

"  That  is  it.    Now  read  the  rest." 

"  I  can't." 

"  No?     That  is  easier  than  what  you  read." 

"  I'll  spell  it  out." 

"  Put    down    your    head    and    I'll    whisper. 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  25 

'  Walter  Wendell  Markyn '  is  what  it  spells. 
You  can  read  it  now,  can't  you?  Can  you?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Now  write  numbers.  Write  *  1  '.  Write 
'  6  '." 

He  followed  her  directions  until  she  had 
finished. 

"  Can  you  read  it?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Do  it." 

He  read  the  numbers  and  spelled  out  the 
words,  "  North  State  Street,  Chicago." 

"  That  is  it.  Put  the  pencil  back  in  the 
drawer.  Shut  the  drawer.  Put  the  card  in  your 
pocket.  Have  you  done  it? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Bend  over  me.  I  want  to  whisper.  That 
is  your  father.  His  name  and  his  address.  Do 
you  understand?  That  is  your  father  and 
where  he  lives." 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Don't  show  the  card  to  people.  Don't  tell 
them.  Nobody  knows.  We  are  the  only  ones 
who  know.  You  and  I,  baby.  If  something 


26  Peewee 

happens  —  you  ought  to  have  his  name.  Now 
kiss  mother  —  kiss  mother  pretty,  my  baby 
boy!" 

He  heard  the  nurse  at  the  door.  As  the  nurse 
came  in,  he  straightened  himself  away  from  the 
fierce  kisses.  The  nurse  disengaged  him  from 
the  clinging  arms. 

"  He  is  not  to  be  sent  away.  You  are  to  keep 
him  here,"  the  woman  directed  anxiously. 

"  Of  course;  I  understand  that,"  the  nurse 
assured  her. 

She  led  him  back  to  the  room  where  he  had 
been  first  and  went  back  to  her  patient. 

Peewee  sat  in  the  increasing  dusk,  blinking 
dazedly  about  him.  He  considered  first  the 
name  which  the  sick  woman  had  called  him  — 
Walter.  It  must  be,  he  comprehended,  what 
persons  would  regard  as  his  real  name,  since  his 
mother  had  called  him  that.  At  the  same  time, 
boys  did  not  necessarily  bear  the  same  first  name 
as  their  fathers.  He  was  not  certain  that  he 
liked  the  name.  He  had  refused  formerly  to 
recognize,  except  officially,  the  name  which  the 
court  had  given  him.  Had  the  sick  woman,  as 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  27 

his  mother,  authority  to  make  him  accept  this 
name  whether  he  wanted  to  or  not? 

The  human  relations  were  obscure  to  him. 
He  had  known  since  he  could  first  remember 
that  he  must  at  some  time  have  had  a  mother 
and  a  father;  but  exactly  what  a  mother  and 
a  father  ought  to  be  was  something  that  experi 
ence  had  left  indefinite  and  confused  for  him. 
His  first  feeling  toward  the  woman  he  just  had 
seen  had  been  simply  fear  of  her.  He  was 
not  capable  of  understanding  the  less  clear  feel 
ings  which  he  had  toward  her  now.  He  resented 
her  calling  him  "  baby,"  but  at  the  same  time 
something  seemed  swelling  in  his  throat  and 
choking  him.  So  far  as  he  could  remember  no 
one  before  had  ever  kissed  him,  the  passionate 
kisses  of  the  sick  woman,  burning  still  upon  his 
lips  and  cheeks,  made  him  uncomfortable  and 
unhappy,  without  his  knowing  why  they  made 
him  so.  No  one,  he  realized,  was  watching  him 
at  present  and  he  could  have  walked  out  the 
door  and  gone  away.  He  decided  he  would  do 
that,  but  he  sat  still  and  did  not  go. 

The  colored  girl,  dressed  now  to  go  out,  came 


28  Peewee 

and  switched  on  the  light.  She  had  a  tray  with 
food  for  him.  While  he  ate,  she  prepared  a  bed 
for  him  upon  the  couch.  She  carried  away  the 
tray  and  passed  through  the  room  again  on  her 
way  out  a  few  minutes  later. 

"  Turn  off  the  light  when  you  want  to  go  to 
bed,"  she  said. 

He  sat  still,  after  she  was  gone.  The  nurse 
came  and  looked  in  upon  him.  Assured  by  his 
manner  that  he  would  remain  where  he  was, 
she  did  not  come  again.  He  saw  her  come  and 
go,  out  of  and  into  the  sick  woman's  room  at 
intervals.  She  went  in  finally  and  did  not  come 
out  again.  He  turned  out  the  light  and  lay 
down  upon  the  couch  without  taking  off  his 
clothes. 

He  awoke  in  broad  day,  and  sat  up  and 
listened.  The  decision  to  go  away  was  now 
definitely  formed  in  him.  He  went  on  tiptoe  to 
the  door  into  the  hall  and  opened  it  and  looked 
out.  There  was  no  one  in  the  hall  and  he  could 
hear  no  one.  Instead  of  stepping  out,  he  partly 
reclosed  the  door  and  went  noiselessly  to  the 
closed  door  of  the  bedroom  and  listened.  He 


Puzzle  of  the  Shadows  29 

stood  there  a  long  while,  hearing  nothing.  If 
the  nurse  were  in  the  room,  he  would  have 
heard  her  move  or  have  heard  someone  speak 
by  now,  he  thought.  He  could  not  imagine 
where  the  nurse  could  be.  Had  she  gone  out? 
At  any  rate,  the  sick  woman  could  not  prevent 
his  going  away  whenever  he  wished.  He  turned 
the  knob  of  the  door  softly  and  looked  in.  The 
nurse  was  not  in  the  room.  The  sick  woman  lay 
with  eyes  closed  and  without  a  pillow,  her  look 
of  immobility  sending  a  sudden  tension  through 
him  and  making  the  hairs  prickle  on  his  skin. 
He  went  quietly  into  the  room  and  stood  look 
ing  down  at  her.  Should  he  speak  to  her  and 
make  her  open  her  eyes?  Or  should  he  merely 
go  away?  Her  hand  with  its  many  rings  lay 
outside  the  coverlet,  he  put  out  his  own  hand 
hesitatingly  and  touched  it,  and  at  the  cojntact 
the  hairs  again  stood  up  upon  his  flesh  in  warn 
ing  to  him.  The  immobility  of  her  look  was 
corroberated  by  the  stiffness  of  the  hand,  which 
was  now  cold  instead  of  burning  with  fever  as 
it  had  been  the  night  before. 

He   drew   back   from   her   a   little,    staring. 


30  Peewee 

Death,  as  a  fact,  was  known  to  Peewee;  there 
had  been  no  one  to  conspire  to  keep  the  knowl 
edge  of  it  from  him.  He  recognized  that  his 
mother  was  dead,  but  it  did  not  give  him  any 
particular  feeling  of  unhappiness.  It  caused 
only  a  dryness  in  his  throat  and  a  sense  of 
physical  uneasiness.  He  backed  slowly  away, 
not  ceasing  to  look  at  her.  He  felt  behind  him 
for  the  door,  found  it,  and  backed  out  through 
the  opening.  Then  he  reclosed  the  door.  He 
listened  again  for  the  nurse.  Not  hearing  her, 
he  went  out  quickly  into  the  musty  hall,  passed 
through  it  and  down  the  stairs,  opened  the 
entrance  door  and  ran  out  into  the  street. 


Chapter     Two 
SHAKING  A  FAMILY  TREE 

It  was  too  early  for  truant  officers  to  be 
inquisitive  upon  the  streets,  but  habit  dictated 
that  Peewee  should  travel  by  the  alleys.  When 
he  had  assured  himself  that  he  had  got  away 
from  the  house  without  being  followed  or  ob 
served,  he  made  for  the  alley  south  of  it.  The 
month  was  June;  the  morning  was  warm  and 
cloudy.  Traveling,  east  along  the  alley, 
thoughtful  and  with  his  worn  shoes  splashing 
in  the  mud,  he  attempted  to  adjust  his  thought 
to  what  had  happened.  Was  the  woman  who 
had  died  really  his  mother?  If  she  was,  what 
did  that  mean?  The  vagueness  of  his  knowl 
edge  regarding  fathers  and  mothers  made  it 
difficult  to  realize  this. 

His  mother! 

He  recalled  that,  at  the  asylum,  there  had 
been  a  "mother  superior"  whom  everybody 
feared.  At  the  Boys'  Home  there  had  been 

31 


32  Peewee 

"  cottage  mothers  "  who  represented  discipline 
over  the  boys.  A  father,  in  his  first  acquaint 
ance  with  the  term,  had  signified  a  grave  man 
dressed  in  black  who  wore  the  symbol  of  the 
cross  somewhere  about  his  person.  These  early 
ideas  of  the  meaning  of  the  words  "mother" 
and  "  father  "  had  been  supplemented  later  by 
recognition  of  a  more  intimate  relation.  But 
he  had  not  seen  anything  particularly  pleasant 
or  desirable  in  the  relation.  He  had  seen  indif 
ferent  mothers,  oblivious  of  their  children; 
virago  mothers,  who  beat  them;  drunken  moth 
ers;  mothers  who  regarded  children  as  an  asset 
and  lived  upon  their  earnings.  His  knowledge 
of  fathers  was  that  they,  even  more  definitely 
still,  represented  unpleasant  authority  over 
children.  In  having  neither  he  had  felt  a  sense 
of  freedom. 

He  took  the  card  out  of  his  pocket  as  he 
walked  along,  and  spelled  out  and  repeated  the 
name  which  he  had  written  on  it  — "  Walter 
Wendell  Markyn."  The  sick  woman,  he  real 
ized,  had  been  "  nuts  "  at  the  time  when  she  had 
given  him  this  name,  and  he  did  not  deceive 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree          33 

himself  in  his  precocious  wisdom,  as  to  what  sort 
of  person  she  had  been.  These  facts  did  not, 
however,  controvert  her  evidence  as  to  his  fath 
er's  name.  Any  assertion  of  authority  over  him 
which  she  might  have  represented  had  been 
obviated  by  her  death.  What,  in  this  respect, 
did  the  card  represent?  The  card  excited  in  him 
a  mild,  impersonal  curiosity.  Having  seen  his 
mother,  he  was  beginning  to  wonder,  though 
without  any  immediate  intention  of  investigat 
ing,  what  sort  of  person  his  father  might  be. 
At  Halsted  Street,  where  the  alleys  changed 
to  north  and  south,  he  turned  south  as  far  as 
Jackson.  He  halted  and  hesitated  here.  Until 
four  o'clock  he  would  not  take  the  risk  of  enter 
ing  the  "  loop,"  and  he  had  intended  to  go  south 
beyond  its  limits  and  then  east  to  the  lake, 
where  probably  he  would  find  some  boys  in 
bathing.  He  turned  back  instead  now  on  his 
steps  as  far  as  Monroe  Street  and  traveled 
eastward  to  Canal.  Long  freight  sheds  here 
stretched  along  the  street;  men  shouted,  swore; 
the  pavements  roared  under  the  wheels  of 
scores  of  trucks. 


34  peewee 

Peewee  could  not  remember  back  to  the  time 
when  he  had  first  noted  among  these  trucks 
those  which  bore  the  name  "  Markyn  Transfer 
Company  "  and  had  spelled  out  the  name  upon 
them  as  he  had  the  names  upon  other  wagons. 

It  was  this  familiarity  of  the  name  which  had 
made  it  easy  for  him  to  read  when  the  woman 
had  had  him  write  it  for  her.  There  was  not 
necessarily,  he  comprehended,  a  connection  be 
tween  the  name  upon  the  trucks  and  the  name 
upon  the  card  in  his  pocket.  He  sat  down  under 
the  freight  shed,  looking  at  the  trucks.  It  did 
not  particularly  incommode  him  that  he  had  not 
breakfasted  and  might  not  lunch.  Frequently 
he  neglected  these  formalities.  He  could  not  have 
told,  either,  exactly  what  he  was  waiting  for, 
though  he  watched  continually  the  faces  of  the 
Markyn  drivers.  He  had  watched  faces  on  the 
streets  almost  since  boyhood,  governing  his  acts 
accordingly.  Toward  noon,  there  arrived  a  truck 
with  a  fat,  good-natured  driver.  The  man  swung 
himself  from  his  seat,  and  went  into  the  freight 
shed.  Peewee  arose  at  once  and  climbed  up  to 
the  driver's  seat.  A  half  hour  later,  the  truck 


Shaking  a  Family  Ti:ee          35 

having  been  unloaded  and  reloaded,  the  man 
ascended  to  the  seat  beside  him. 

'Where  you  going,  kid?"  he  inquired, 
agressively. 

"  Nowhere." 

The  reply  appeared  satisfactory,  for  the  man 
started  the  truck.  They  progressed  for  several 
blocks  in  silence. 

'Who's  Markyn?"  Peewee  inquired  ab 
ruptly. 

The  driver  turned  and  looked  at  him. 
"What's  Markyn  to  you?" 

Peewee's  face  maintained  immobility. 
"  Nothin'." 

"What  do  you  ask  for?" 

"  Because  the  name  is  on  the  wagon." 

The  man  reflected  upon  this  connection. 
"  Markyn's  dead,"  he  asserted. 

Peewee  considered.  Would  his  mother  have 
given  him  his  father's  name  if  that  father  had 
been  dead?  She  might,  if  she  were  completely 
"  nuts."  If  not,  she  would  have  known  of  the 
death,  he  thought.  The  statement  seemed  to 
establish  that  the  Markyn  whose  name  was  on 


36  Peewee 

the  trucks  was  not  his  father,  but  to  let  the 
assertion  pass  without  contradiction  would  end 
the  conversation. 

"  Like  bunk  he  is !  "  he  answered. 

They  advanced  again  in  silence.  The  driver 
reached  finally  into  the  hip  pocket  of  his  trousers 
and  extracted  a  worn  billfold.  He  opened  it 
and  took  out  a  worn  slip  of  newspaper. 

"  Can  you  read?  "  he  asked. 

"  Of  course,"  Peewee  said  promptly. 

"  All  right.  You  say  the  old  man  ain't  dead ; 
I  say  he  is.  Who's  right?" 

He  gave  the  slip  to  the  boy,  who  unfolded 
it  and  looked  at  it.  The  article  was  rather  long; 
it  had  been  defaced  by  carrying  so  that  Peewee 
could  not  read  the  smaller  printing,  but  the 
larger  letters  at  the  top  were  plain.  He  spelled 
them  out :  "  Jeffrey  Markyn,  Second,  one  of 
the  builders  of  Chicago,  dies  in  Pasadena, 
California." 

"  I  say,  who's  right? "  the  man  insisted. 

'  You  are,"  said  Peewee. 

"  He  was  a  good  guy,"  the  man  asserted  — 
"  a  good  guy.  He  give  me  my  first  job.  When 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree          37 

the  old  man  died  I  cut  this  out  of  the  paper  and 
kept  it  ever  since." 

Peewee  gave  the  slip  back  to  the  man,  and 
as  soon  as  the  truck  stopped  he  got  down  and 
sat  upon  the  curb  to  think.  His  conversation 
with  the  truck  driver  had  not  demonstrated  any 
connection  between  the  name  upon  the  truck 
and  name  upon  the  card,  but  it  had  not,  he 
recognized,  proved  that  there  was  no  connection. 
When  the  truck  had  proceeded  along  Desplaines 
Street,  where  he  had  left  it,  he  got  up  and 
went  east  along  Madison.  He  had  spent  the 
whole  morning  under  the  freight-shed;  it  was 
now  early  afternoon  and  he  had  decided,  in  his 
increasing  interest,  to  take  the  chance  of  going 
into  the  "  loop."  Having  crossed  the  river,  he 
again  took  to  the  alleys,  crossed  Wells  Street 
and  sat  down  inside  the  alley  mouth  to  wait. 

The  alley  smelled  of  printer's  ink;  on  the 
street  front  outside  men  were  delivering  bundles 
of  newspapers  to  the  waiting  wagons.  There 
were  boys  in  the  alley  surreptitiously  gambling 
for  pennies  and  some  unhappy  looking  men 
whom  Peewee  recognized  as  unemployed  per- 


38  peewee 

sons  waiting  to  graft  copies  of  the  paper  and 
look  up  "Help  Wanted."  A  boy  of  fifteen 
came  from  a  door  opening  on  the  alley,  crossed 
to  a  lunchroom  and  returned,  carrying  some 
thing  in  a  paper  bag.  Peewee  had  risen  and 
was  awaiting  him. 

"  Hello,"  he  offered. 

The  older  boy  was  gracious.  "  Hello,  kid," 
he  vouchsafed. 

Peewee  squirmed  ingratiatingly.  "  I  know 
what  it  is  you  do,"  he  asserted. 

The  other  boy  denied  upon  general  principles. 
"You  do  not!" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  do;  the  wagonman  told  me. 
When  someone  dies  you  tell  'em  what  to  print." 

The  older  boy  was  flattered.  "  You  said 
it,  kid." 

"  I  think  you  can't  always  find  'em." 

The  older  boy  betrayed  corrupting  associa 
tions.  "The  hell  I  can't!" 

"  I  think  you  can't  always,"  Peewee  repeated. 

The  older  boy  grew  angry.  "  Say,  what  are 
you  talking  about?  I  know  my  job.  Say,  you 
think  I  don't?" 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree  39 

"  I  can  tell  some  that  you  can't  find,"  Peewee 
insisted. 

'  You  think  you  can?  You  come  on;  I'll 
show  you! " 

They  ascended  a  narrow,  dirty  stair  the  smell 
of  printer's  ink  growing  stronger,  to  a  small, 
dingy  room  filled  with  books,  with  bound  files 
of  newspapers,  and,  at  one  end,  with  filing  cases 
and  a  table  with  a  telephone.  The  older  boy 
halted  in  front  of  the  filing  cases. 

"  This  here  is  called  the  bone-yard,"  he  an 
nounced.  "  Some  call  it  the  morgue.  When 
someone  dies,  the  local  room  calls  me,  and  I  give 
'em  the  dope.  You  say  I  can't  do  it?  You  ask 
me  about  somebody.  Shoot !  " 

Peewee  pretended  to  reflect.  "  Find  Markyn," 
he  directed. 

"  Markyn?     Say,  that's  easy." 

The  older  boy  selected  one  of  the  envelopes 
from  a  filing  case  and  held  it  out.  ;<  There !  " 
he  exclaimed.  "  Say,  ain't  I  right?  " 

"  I'll  see,"  Peewee  answered. 

He  carried  the  envelope  to  the  table,  emptied 
it  of  its  contents  and  began  to  look  them  over. 


40  Peewee 

The  envelope  had  been  completely  filled  with 
clippings  from  magazines  and  newspapers ;  some 
of  these  were  pictures ;  he  found  it  hard  to  learn 
anything  where  there  was  so  much  to  be  de 
ciphered.  The  telephone  rang  and  the  other 
boy,  answering  it,  received  some  instruction  and 
set  about  fulfilling  it. 

Peewee  bent  over  the  clippings  in  absorption. 
"  Jeffrey  Markyn,"  he  read,  "  came  to  Chicago 
from  Connecticut  in  1858.  First  of  the  name  in 
this  locality,  he  was  a  dealer  in  grains."  He 
put  this  aside;  he  was  not  interested  in  Jeffrey 
Markyn,  but  in  someone  named  Walter. 

He  picked  up  another.  "  The  Markyn- 
Beman  Wheat  Corner."  What  did  that  mean? 
"  In  the  late  80's,  Markyn  and  his  partner, 
Matthew  Beman,  made  an  attempt  to  corner 
the  Chicago  wheat  market,  which  ended  in  temp 
orary  ruin  for  the  Markyn  family.  This  was 
the  origin  of  the  feud  between  them  and  the 
Bemans  following  which,  Markyn  and  Beman 
never  spoke  again."  What  was  feud? 

"  Associated  with  Beman,  with  whom  he  had 
put  over  a  hundred  business  deals  in  the  twenty 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree          41 

years  during  which  the  men  had  been  close 
friends,  Markyn  had  secretly  been  buying  wheat 
for  months  through  a  dozen  brokers.  The  day 
upon  the  Board,  when  Markyn,  believing  the 
corner  completed,  attempted  to  close  in,  only  to 
find  that  Beman,  his  supposed  partner,  had 
double  crossed  him  and,  while  buying  with  one 
hand,  had  been  secretly  selling  with  the  other, 
is  historic  and  has  been  described  by  an  eye 
witness  as  follows." 

Peewee  let  the  clipping  fall;  there  was  no 
possibility  of  understanding  stuff  like  that.  He 
took  up  one  of  the  pictures  and  spelled  out  the 
caption.  "  Idle  Hour,  the  Southern  California 
residence  lately  purchased  by  Jeffrey  Markyn, 
Third."  He  tried  another  of  the  printed  slips. 
"  The  formation  of  the  transfer  company  in 
1888,  by  which  Jeffrey  Markyn,  Second,  re 
established  the  fortunes  of  the  Markyn 
family  —  "  There  was  no  interest  in  this ;  what 
Peewee  had  read  showed  only  that  these  par 
ticular  Markyns  were  regarded  as  important 
people.  It  made  it,  in  that  way,  less  probable 
that  he  himself  could  have  any  connection  with 


42  Peewee 

them.  He  had  become  incredulous  of  any  such 
connection,  but  he  breathed  more  quickly  as  he 
began  to  spell  out  the  caption  below  the  picture 
which  had  lain  underneath  this  last  printed  slip: 

"  Mrs.  Walter  Wendell  Markyn  and  her 
sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Arthur  Cord.'* 

Mrs.  Walter  Wendell  Markyn?  Who  was 
she?  His  father's  wife?  Did  the  caption  iden 
tify  him  with  these  important  Markyns?  There 
would  not  be  two  people  by  that  name.  He 
gazed  intently  at  this  picture  of  two  ladies.  She 
was  very  pretty,  he  thought  —  his  father's  wife, 
if  it  was  his  father.  She  would  be  the  one  upon 
the  left.  She  was  like  the  women  who  had 
given  him  money  upon  the  streets,  only  she  was 
more  beautiful  than  any  of  those  women.  She 
seemed  quite  young.  She  was  outdoors,  carry 
ing  a  parasol;  her  face  was  sweet  and  tender, 
her  gaze  frank  and  kind.  His  throat  closed  up, 
and  he  trembled  with  vaguely  painful  feelings. 
After  looking  at  her  a  long  while,  he  put  the 
picture  aside  and  turned  to  the  next  clipping. 
:<  Walter  Wendell  Markyn  and  Marion  Beman 
are  married.  Society  romance  ends  a  feud  orig- 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree          43 

mating  more  than  twenty  years  ago  upon  the 
Board  of  Trade,"  He  looked  at  the  date  upon 
the  clipping  —  "  September  12,  1913  "  —  and 
stopped  to  think. 

The  facts  of  birth  were  known  to  him,  not  un 
certainly  as  to  most  children,  but  definitely;  for 
he  had  heard  them  discussed  without  reserve. 
He  did  not  know  exactly  when  he  had  been 
born,  but  the  ages  of  young  children  can  be 
closely  told,  and  he  had  learned  during  his 
appearances  in  court  that,  when  he  had  been 
assigned  to  the  orphan  asylum,  he  must  have 
been  not  over  two.  He  had  not  been  born,  then, 
when  this  marriage  had  taken  place.  His  father 
—  was  it  his  father?  —  had  had  a  wife;  a  — 
what  did  the  headlines  call  new  wives  ?  —  a 
bride.  What  part  in  this,  then,  had  been  borne 
by  the  woman  who  had  died  on  the  West  Side? 
It  must  be,  surely,  that  she  had  been  only 
"  nuts."  She  could  not  be  his  mother;  or  else 
this  Walter  Wendell  Markyn  could  not  be  his 
father. 

The  other  boy,  having  finished  his  errand,  had 
come  back  and  was  observing  him. 


44  Peewee 

"  Well?     Can't  I  find  'em?  " 

"  Sure." 

Peewee  backed  guardedly  away  and,  when  he 
had  attained  a  safe  distance,  turned  and  went 
out.  As  he  came  out  into  the  alley,  he  found  the 
pavements  wet  with  falling  rain.  He  went 
around  in  front,  got  his  papers  from  the  wagon- 
man  and,  opening  one  paper  out,  put  it  about 
the  others  to  protect  them  from  the  wet.  He 
did  not  consider  whether  he  minded  being  wet 
himself;  to  be  wet,  if  it  rained  in  business  hours, 
was  customary.  His  too  large  clothing  became 
sticky  with  the  rain  and  clung  to  him,  his  shoes 
became  pulpy,  the  visor  of  his  cap  softened  and 
hung  down  in  front  of  his  eyes.  In  the  late 
afternoon,  he  suddenly  took  the  damp  card  from 
his  pocket,  wrapped  it  in  several  thicknesses  of 
newspaper  so  that  the  pencil  marks  might  not 
become  obliterated,  and  put  it  back.  Toward 
seven  in  the  evening  when  he  had  disposed  of 
his  papers,  he  disregarded  his  usual  direction  of 
departure,  which  was  toward  the  West  Side, 
and  began  moving  slowly  north. 

Not  having  decided  what  he  meant  to  do  with 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree  45 

reference  to  the  man  who  might  be  his  father,  he 
progressed  as  a  stray  dog  goes,  with  frequent 
side  excursions  to  examine  objects  which  excited 
his  curiosity,  and  with  many  halts.  He  sat  for 
a  time  in  the  shelter  of  a  warehouse  beside  the 
river,  watching  a  pile  driver  being  laid  up  for 
the  night.  At  dark,  he  bargained  at  the  rear 
door  of  a  Greek  lunchroom  for  a  piece  of  pork 
between  two  slices  of  unbuttered  bread  and  sat 
down  in  the  alley  to  eat  it.  He  observed  with 
impersonal  interest  by  the  light  through  the 
lunchroom  door  that  his  hands,  which  had  grown 
cleaner  through  handling  the  wet  newspapers, 
had  grown  cleaner  still  through  handling  the 
bread.  After  dining  he  again  moved  north. 
At  ten  o'clock,  following  many  side  excursions 
and  pauses  for  inspection  of  area-ways  and 
yards,  he  reached  Division  Street  and  North 
State.  Until  now  there  had  been  street  cars 
running  in  the  street,  and  the  buildings  had 
been  stores  over  which  people  lived,  or  apart 
ment  buildings  of  somber,  dingy  brick.  At  this 
point  the  car  tracks  curved  aside  and  the  build 
ings  were  dwellings  which  increased  in  size  and 


46  Peewee 

fineness  with  each  succeeding  block.  He  must 
be  drawing  near  the  place.  The  numbers  upon 
the  house  fronts  were  approximating  that  upon 
his  card  and  a  short  way  ahead  of  him  the  street 
appeared  to  end,  its  globed  street  lamps,  which 
glittered  hazily  in  the  rain  and  were  reflected 
on  the  wet  pavement,  circling  into  the  curved 
drives  of  Ivincom  Park.  His  heart  beat  more 
quickly,  as  he  finally  identified  the  house  he 
sought  and  sat  down  across  from  it  to  inspect 
it  at  his  ease. 

It  stood  upon  a  corner  —  an  immense  square 
structure  of  Roman  brick  and  sandstone,  sur 
rounded  by  a  twelve  foot  wrought  iron  fence. 
He  had  expected,  after  what  he  had  learned  at 
the  newspaper  office,  that  it  would  be  a  fine 
house,  but  this  expectation  was  not  definite. 
Now,  seeing  its  great  shape  and  its  shining  win 
dows,  he  grew  excited.  Personal  experience  had 
shown  him  more  boys  who  did  not  live  with  their 
fathers  than  who  did,  but  he  knew  that  his 
experience  was  contrary  to  the  general  fact. 
Suppose  he  went  to  this  Walter  Wendell 
Markyn  and,  on  looking  at  him,  found  him  to  be 


Shaking  a  Family  Tree  47 

a  kind-appearing  man.  Suppose,  he  showed  him 
the  card  and  said  to  him,  "  She  says  I  am  your 
son."  Wouldn't  he  then  live  in  that  house,  have 
plenty  to  eat,  wear  good  clothes,  and  ride  in 
motor  cars?  They  might  even  let  him  drive  the 
motor. 

The  windows  of  a  number  of  rooms  were 
lighted  and  the  shades  were  up,  but  he  could 
see  no  one  in  the  rooms.  At  the  rear  of  the 
house  there  was  a  gate  on  the  iron  fence  and 
beyond  that  a  paved  court  and  other  windows 
with  lights.  While  he  looked,  one  of  these  lights 
winked  out  and  a  man  crossed  the  court  and 
entered  the  house  at  a  basement  door. 

The  circumstance  interested  Peewee  by  its 
demonstration  that  this  door  was  not  locked. 
He  went  and  tried  the  gate  and  found  that  he 
could  get  in.  He  crossed  the  court  and  pushed 
gently  at  the  door.  It  opened,  showing  a  dimly 
lighted,  vacant  hall.  He  went  in  and  let  the 
door  close  noiselessly  behind  him.  Voices  and 
laughter  came  to  him  from  a  room  at  the  further 
end  of  the  hall,  and  he  moved  cautiously  forward 
until  he  could  look  in.  There  were  several 


48  Peewee 

people  in  the  room  —  young  women  in  neat 
black  clothes  with  little  squares  of  lace  upon 
their  heads  and  men  in  liveries  such  as  he  had 
often  admired  when  he  saw  them  get  down 
and  open  the  limousine  doors. 

At  his  right  a  dark  stair  curved  sharply  up. 
He  hesitated.  No  one,  it  appeared,  had  heard 
him  come  in;  he  could  hear  no  one  speaking  or 
moving  on  the  floor  above,  He  looked  again  at 
the  curving  stair,  and  moved  toward  it,  and  still 
keeping  his  eyes  upon  the  lighted  door,  he  began 
to  go  upward  step  by  step. 


Chapter  Three 
"  I  CAN'T  HURT  HER  LIKE  THAT  " 

Peewee,  his  soaked  shoes  making  no  sound 
upon  the  polished  stair-treads,  ascended  into  a 
large,  softly  lighted  hall  above.  Rooms,  some 
dark,  some  softly  lighted  like  the  hall,  opened 
on  both  sides.  He  listened;  there  was,  so  far  as 
he  could  determine,  no  one  in  these  rooms;  the 
only  sounds  that  came  to  him  were  the  voices  and 
laughter  from  below. 

'The  phenomenon  of  rooms  lighted  but  not  oc 
cupied  perplexed  him  and  reassured  him  at  the 
same  time ;  he  advanced  to  look  in  upon  the  room 
nearest  on  the  left.  The  lamps  shining  through 
silk  shades  showed  it,  as  he  had  felt  sure  it  must 
be,  unoccupied.  He  went  in  excitedly  and  moved 
about,  touching  and  looking  at  the  ornaments 
and  trying  and  feeling  of  the  furniture.  He 
stopped  and  touched  curiously  the  long  nap  of 
the  silky  rug.  There  was  another  lighted  room 

49 


50  Peewee 

upon  the  other  side,  and  he  started  toward  it 
across  the  hall,  but  halted  suddenly  to  inspect 
the  sweep  of  the  handsome,  wide  stairs.  He 
went  up  hesitatingly,  step  by  step,  and  at  the  top 
he  listened.  The  silence  assured  him  that  there 
was  no  one  on  this  floor  either.  He  crossed  to 
the  nearest  lighted  bedroom ;  and  this  room  — 
done  in  white  and  gold,  with  connecting  dressing 
room  and  bath  —  set  him  to  dancing  deliriously. 
He  patted  the  lace  counterpane  upon  the  bed 
with  his  damp  and  dirty  hands,  and  picked  up 
and  examined  the  white  toilet  articles,  mono- 
grammed  in  gold,  upon  the  dresser.  He  went 
to  look  in  on  the  white  and  gilt  of  the  tiled  bath. 
But  he  caught  himself  about,  checked  and 
startled  and  stiffened  by  the  sound  of  a  motor 
which  had  stopped  outside  the  house. 

He  ran  out  to  the  head  of  the  stairs  in  panic. 
Unquestionably  someone  was  coming  into  the 
house,  and  someone  was  also  ascending  the  stair 
way  from  the  basement,  up  which  he  himself 
had  come.  He  realized  that  he  must  not  be  dis 
covered  here  in  the  house,  among  all  these  beau 
tiful  and  costly  things.  To  have  come  to  the 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      51 

house  openly  and  inquired  whether  the  man  there 
was  his  father  would  have  been  a  different  thing, 
but  suppose,  under  these  present  circumstances, 
the  man  should  prove  not  to  be  his  father.  Then 
they  would  merely  turn  him  over  to  the  police, 
who,  he  knew,  did  not  allow  poorly  dressed  peo 
ple  to  make  any  explanations. 

The  person  he  had  heard  ascending  the  stair 
— a  servant  —  passed  through  the  lower  hall. 
An  outer  door  closed  somewhere.  He  heard  a 
man's  deep,  good-natured  voice  say  something 
unintelligible;  then  he  heard  a  woman's  voice. 

"  It's  possible,"  the  woman's  voice  said,  "  to 
get  him  out  to  dinner,  but  anything  that  keeps 
him  out  after  eleven  o'clock  is  taboo  apparently. 
Did  you  notice  how  he  acted  to-night?  " 

The  man's  voice  answered:  "  Only  like  a 
man  thinking  of  business,  it  seemed  to  me." 

Then  another  man's  voice,  not  so  deep  or 
pleasant,  spoke:  "  One  of  my  rights  as  a  mar 
ried  man,  my  dear." 

The  woman  laughed  and  Peewee  drew  back 
from  the  stair-head  in  terror.  She  had  laughed 
from  the  bottom  of  the  stair;  she  was  coming 


52  Peewee 

up!  He  stared  about  in  his  fright  for  a  place 
of  concealment,  then  darted  noiselessly  into  the 
nearest  dark  bedroom.  He  could  see  her  plainly 
as  she  came  slowly  up  the  stair  and  stopped  for 
several  moments  in  the  hall,  hesitating  and  look 
ing  back  as  though  something  which  she  had 
not  understood  but  only  had  felt  vaguely  was 
troubling  her.  She  was  the  woman  whose  pic 
ture  he  had  seen  in  the  newspaper  office.  His 
father's  wife? 

She  was  a  slender  woman.  Her  hair  was 
almost  black,  with  lights  of  brown  in  it,  and 
looped  itself  prettily  about  her  ears  and  temples ; 
her  eyes  were  deep  dark  blue,  and  land  and 
pleasant;  her  nose  and  chin  were  finely  formed 
and  full  of  character;  her  mouth  was  sweet  and 
tender.  Her  look  was  girlish,  but  her  face 
showed  more  understanding  and  sympathy  than 
mere  girls  have. 

That  indeterminate,  disturbing  emotion  which 
he  had  felt  in  looking  at  her  picture  he  felt  still 
more  plainly  now.  She  made  him,  in  some  not 
understandable  way,  seem  small  and  lonely;  she 
stirred  in  him  something  like  a  physical  want, 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      53 

like  pain.  He  wished  his  dead  mother  might 
hav-e  looked  like  her.  He  was  glad  —  because 
there  was  the  suggestion  of  tears  in  his  feelings 
— when  she  went  into  the  white  bedroom  and 
closed  the  door.  Then  he  rushed  out  silently 
toward  the  stairs. 

He  was  planning  his  escape  as  he  cautiously 
descended  them  peering  down  and  looking  for 
the  men.  The  servants  on  the  lower  floor,  he 
realized,  had  been  disturbed;  it  was  not  prob 
able  that  he  could  get  out  of  the  house  by  the 
way  he  had  come  in  without  being  seen  and 
caught.  The  alternative  that  remained  was  to 
get  out  at  the  great  front  door. 

He  could  see  nothing  of  the  men.  The  door 
of  one  of  the  rooms  which  had  been  open  when 
he  had  ascended  the  stairs  was  now  closed.  The 
men  unquestionably  had  gone  in  there.  He 
passed  this  door  on  tip-toe  and  had  nearly 
reached  the  comparative  safety  of  the  vestibule 
when  the  voice  of  the  deeper  toned  of  the  two 
men,  reaching  him  through  the  closed  door, 
caught  and  halted  him  and  whirled  him  sud 
denly  about: 


54  Peewee 

"I'm  not  accusing  you,  Walter;  I'm  here  to 
get  an  explanation  from  you." 

It  was  not  the  sentence  that  had  caught  Pee 
wee;  it  was  the  name.  Was  the  other  man  in 
the  room  the  one  who  might  be  his  father?  He 
hesitated.  While  he  did  so  the  room  next  to 
the  one  the  men  were  in  which  had  been  dimly 
lighted  became  suddenly  dark  and  he  could  no 
longer  hear  the  men's  voices.  This  phenomenon 
must  have  been  produced  by  one  of  the  men 
closing  a  door  between  the  rooms.  He  crept 
into  the  dark  room  cautiously,  and  discovered 
that  folding  doors  between  the  two  rooms  had 
been  closed,  but  that  by  crouching  close  to  the 
doors  he  could  hear  almost  plainly.  It  was  now 
again  the  deeper-voiced  man  who  was  speaking. 

"Just  this.  Lampert,  the  old  barn  boss  whom 
we  discharged  some  years  ago,  came  to  me  to-day. 
His  daughter,  he  said,  had  died  in  some  rooming 
house  on  the  West  Side.  He  rambled  mysteri 
ously  and  insultingly,  about  our  family  being 
the  ones  who  ought  to  .bury  her.  I  didn't  be 
lieve  his  story ;  I  thought  it  was  only  a  touch  for 
money,  but  I  couldn't  let  his  insinuations  pass. 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      55 

I  went  out  there  with  him.  He'd  told  this  much 
truth  at  least;  the  woman  lay  there  dead.  It 
was  easy  to  see  what  kind  of  woman  she  had 
been." 

Peewee's  pulse-beat  had  quickened.  It  must 
be  the  woman  who  had  told  him  she  was  his 
mother  that  the  man  was  talking  about. 

The  other  man  said  something  not  audible; 
then  the  first  man  spoke  again. 

"  No,  he'd  come  to  me  because  I  was  the  head 
of  the  family  and  the  company,  but  his  insinua 
tions  referred  to  you." 

"You  think  they're  true?" 

"I'm  asking  you,  brother." 

"My  God,  Jeffrey!  I'd  be  crazy  to  try  to 
defend  myself  against  you,  when  I  need  your 
help!" 

Peewee  caught  eagerly  at  the  name.  That 
deeper- voiced  man  —  he  knew  who  he  must  be. 
That  one  whose  death  notice  the  truck  driver 
had  shown  him  had  been  Jeffrey  Markyn,  Sec 
ond.  This  one,  in  the  queer  way  this  family 
called  itself,  must  be  Jeffrey  Markyn,  Third. 
He  was  at  least,  so  he  had  just  said  —  this  Wai- 


56  peewee 

ter's  brother.  In  that  case  Walter's  name  would 
be  also  Markyn.  Was  the  middle  part  of  that 
name  Wendell? 

The  first  man  said  something  now  which  Pee 
wee  could  not  hear. 

The  other  answered:  "  Good  heavens,  Jef 
frey!  You  don't  suppose  I  risked  my  home  for 
her?" 

Again  the  first  man  said  something  inaudible. 

"  No,  years  ago.  Before  I  married  Marion. 
After  they'd  taken  Marion  abroad  to  marry  her 
to  someone  over  there." 

Peewee  stiffened.  Marion?  That  was  Mrs. 
Walter  Wendell  Markyn,  the  pretty  lady  who 
had  just  gone  upstairs.  This  man  was  Walter 
Wendell  Markyn,  then. 

"  No,  I'm  not  trying  to  excuse  myself.  If  I 
were,  I'd  blame  it  on  that  damned  old  family 
enmity  which,  when  Marion  and  I  engaged  our 
selves  to  marry,  made  both  families  refuse  to 
recognize  our  engagement." 

What  was  an  enmity?  Peewee  asked  himself. 
Why  did  people  use  words  one  couldn't  under 
stand. 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      57 

"  They  drove  us  both  three-quarters  mad,  I 
think,  before  they  took  Marion  away  to  separate 
us.  Then,  afterward,  I  met  this  barn  boss' 
daughter.  I  don't  know  now  how  I  came  to 
drift  into  such  an  affair.  I  thought  they'd  suc 
ceed  in  getting  Marion  married  to  someone  over 
there.  She  wrote  me  how  hard  they  were  trying 
to  do  that.  They'd  kept  her  over  there  so  long 
I  thought  my  love  for  her  had  weakened." 

Peewee  could  not  hear  Jeffrey  Markyn's  re 
ply  to  that;  the  other's  words  were  clear. 

"  Of  course  not!  This  Helen  Lampert  knew 
that  I  would  never  marry  her;  she'd  understood 
that  from  the  beginning,  and  that  it  must  end 
whenever  I  decided.  But  I  furnished  an  apart 
ment  for  her." 

Jeffrey  Markyn  spoke  again ;  the  inflection  of 
his  voice  showed  he  had  asked  a  question. 

His  brother  answered.  "About  two  years. 
Then  Marion  came  back." 

It  appeared  to  Peewee  that  this  conversation 
was  not  getting  easier  to  understand  but  harder. 
What  had  been  "about  two  years? " 

"  I  admit  that,  Jeffrey.     You  don't  yet  know 


58  peewee 

half!  This  is  much  worse  than  you  can  think 
for  Marion.  When  they  took  Marion  away, 
we'd  renewed  our  engagement  as  solemnly  as  we 
could ;  we'd  sworn  to  one  another  by  every  sacred 
thing  —  Marion,  that  as  long  as  she  might  live 
would  never  have  any  other  man  but  me,  and 
I,  that  I  would  never  have  any  other  woman. 
She  came  back  and  I  found  I  still  was  crazy 
over  her." 

Peewee  could  understand  that;  he  too  was 
somewhat  crazy  over  Mrs.  Walter  Wendell 
Markyn. 

"  She'd  done  so  much,  Jeffrey  —  she'd  fought 
them  for  me,  and  beaten  them,  and  now  she'd 
come  back  here  to  marry  me.  She  asked  me  if 
I'd  kept  our  promise.  I  couldn't  tell  her  'No.' 
I  was  wild  about  her.  I  told  her  '  Yes.'  I  told 
Helen  we  were  through,  and  she  was  game  and 
square  and  didn't  question  it.  I  never  heard 
from  her  again  till  day  before  yesterday." 

"Then  what?" 

"  She  sent  a  note." 

The  circumstance  interested  Peewee  inconse 
quentially.  The  sick  woman  had  been  able  to 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      59 

write,  then;  she  had  not  been  strong  enough 
when  he  had  seen  her.  Had  she  written  it  on 
one  of  the  "men's  cards"  and  with  the  pencil 
out  of  the  dresser  drawer? 

'  Yes ;  she  wanted  me  to  come  over  to  that 
place  on  the  West  Side.  I  didn't  dare  not  to 
go.  Ten  years  of  silence  and  then  —  that!  I 
knew  it  must  be  important.  I  went  over  there. 
I  found  her  ill;  she  knew  she  was  dying.  Jef 
frey,  I  said  you  didn't  yet  know  half  of  it! 
There  is  a  boy." 

"What?" 

"  There's  a  boy." 

Peewee  jerked  excitedly.  He  had  been  grow 
ing  certain  that  the  sick  woman  had  told  the 
truth;  she  was  his  mother  and  this  Walter  Wen 
dell  Markyn  was  his  father.  But  he  had  not 
been  so  assured  that  his  father  knew.  Much  of 
what  had  been  said  had  not  been  understandable 
to  him,  but  this  was.  He  realized  that  his  father 
was  still  speaking. 

"  She'd  understood  me,  she  said,  Jeffrey,  all 
through  our  association  better  than  I  had  under 
stood  myself.  She'd  known  that  I  had  never 


60  peewee 

stopped  loving  Marion.  She'd  foreseen,  when 
she  learned  Marion  was  coming  back,  that  she 
would  have  to  give  me  up,  and  she  hadn't  been 
willing  to  give  me  up  entirely.  She  wanted  the 
boy  for  herself.  She  meant  to  go  straight  for 
his  sake.  She  didn't  succeed  in  doing  that.  The 
courts,  she  said,  took  the  child  away  from  her 
when  he  was  a  little  over  two  years  old.  After 
ward  she  lost  trace  of  him.  There  was  some 
confusion  of  the  records  and  the  boy's  identity 
was  lost.  Ten  days  ago,  at  the  beginning  of 
her  illness,  she  saw  him  on  the  street  and  recog 
nized  him." 

"  Recognized  him?  A  child  of  eight  whom 
she  had  not  seen  since  he  was  two?  " 

"  The  child's  likeness  to  me  attracted  her  at 
tention  and  she  had  investigations  made  by  pri 
vate  police  who  established  his  identity.  She 
was  to  have  the  boy  there  for  me  to  see.  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I  went  back  there  and  found 
her  dead.  The  nurse  who  had  attended  her  was 
there  with  her.  The  boy  had  been  there  but 
had  got  away.  He  must  have  slipped  out,  the 
nurse  said,  while  she  was  telephoning  the  doctor. 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      61 

He  can  be  found  again;  he  sells  newspapers  on 
the  street,  and  the  private  police  whom  she  em 
ployed  knew  him.  Jeffrey,  what  am  I  to  do?  " 

His  own  course,  Peewee  argued,  had  now  be 
come  quite  clear.  Did  he,  in  fact,  so  greatly 
resemble  his  father?  He  wished  there  was  some 
way  he  could  look  into  the  room  and  see.  But 
he  could  not  doubt  the  fact,  since  his  mother  had 
recognized  him  by  that  likeness;  and  he  realized 
that,  in  that  case,  he  did  not  need  to  be  afraid. 
He  would  wait,  he  thought,  until  they  had  fin 
ished  talking;  then  he  would  go  into  the  room. 
He  dramatized,  with  the  instinctive  egotism  of 
children,  his  own  importance  and  their  great 
surprise  when  he  should  make  that  entry. 

"  We  must  find  the  boy,  brother."  This  was 
Jeffrey  Markyn  speaking. 

"  I  mean,  what  am  I  to  do  about  my  wife? 
Marion's  love  for  me  is  built  upon  her  faith  in 
me.  She  feels  that  ours  has  been  a  perfect  love. 
To  learn  now  that  I  came  straight  from  another 
to  her  — " 

"  Walter,  we  can't  leave  a  boy  of  our  blood  — 
of  father's  blood  and  mother's  —  to  fight  out  his 


62  peewee 

life  alone  upon  the  streets.  Who  knows  of  your 
connection  with  him? " 

"  No  one,  as  yet.  Helen  played  square  with 
me  until  the  end.  I  used  a  fictitious  name  when 
I  went  over  there." 

'  We'll  have  the  boy  found  and  put  him  with 
someone  who'll  look  after  him  and  have  him 
educated." 

Peewee  clenched  his  hands  resentfully.  He 
did  not  want  to  be  put  with  someone;  agents  of 
justice  and  charity  had  been  trying  to  do  that 
to  him  all  his  life.  What  he  wanted  was  to  live 
here  in  this  house;  and  now,  more  even  than 
that,  to  live  near  and  see  the  woman  who  had 
gone  upstairs.  He  heard  his  father  now: 

"  Put  him  with  some  one?  Until  when?  My 
connection  with  him  will  finally  be  found  out 
and  Marion  will  feel  that  I  have  put  deceit  upon 
deceit.  My  own  hope  of  pardon  from  her  —  if 
there  is  a  hope  —  would  be  that,  as  soon  as  I 
knew  there  was  a  boy,  I  came  to  her;  confessed; 
begged  her  to  forgive  me." 

"  Tell  her,  then." 

"  I  can't  hurt  her  like  that,  Jeffrey!     I  can't! 


I  Can't  Hurt  Her  Like  That      63 

Even  if  we  leave  myself  out  of  consideration 
entirely,  I  can't  inflict  that  agony  upon  her!  " 

Peewee  had  been  backing  away  from  the  door. 
The  emotions,  if  not  all  the  words  of  what  the 
men  were  saying,  were  quite  plain  to  him.  His 
feelings  had  been  stirred  by  their  talk  about 
Mrs.  Markyn.  They  should  not,  he  was  deter 
mined,  hurt  her.  The  exact  nature  of  the  hurt 
to  be  inflicted  on  her  was  not  wholly  clear,  but 
he  understood  that  it  was  through  him  that  it 
was  to  come  to  her.  Because  his  father  had 
found  him  —  or  rather  was  about  to  find  him  — 
she  was  to  suffer. 

He  resented  the  means  of  prevention  which 
they  proposed  for  this.  They  should  not,  he  was 
resolved,  put  him  with  someone  to  be  taken  care 
of;  that  would  be  no  better  than  the  Boys' 
Home.  He  did  not,  he  considered,  have  any 
need  of  a  father.  He  had  got  on  very  well 
without  one  —  better  than  he  would  with  a 
parent  who  proposed  to  send  Burke  and  Mundy 
private  operatives  to  look  for  him.  They  did 
not  know,  of  course,  what  expertness  he  had 
gained  in  avoiding  such  agents. 


64  peewee 

He  had  crossed  the  darkened  room  and  the 
hall  and  had  reached  the  vestibule.  He  could 
hardly  hear  from  there  the  voices  of  the  men. 
He  looked  back  over  his  shoulder  at  the  big, 
luxurious  rooms.  There  were  limitations,  he 
commenced  to  comprehend,  upon  people  who 
lived  in  a  fine  house  like  this;  there  must  be 
many  things  which  a  boy  who  lived  here  would 
not  be  allowed  to  do.  He  muffled  with  his 
hand  the  clicking  of  the  lock  as  he  sprung  open 
the  front  door.  He  closed  it  behind  him  al 
most  without  a  sound  and  descended  the  wide 
stone  steps. 

A  light  in  what  he  thought  must  be  the  white 
bedroom  blinked  out  as  he  turned  after  a  few 
steps  to  look  back  at  the  house.  He  stood  for 
some  time  gazing  at  the  darkened  window.  How 
pretty  she  was  and  how  sweet !  His  throat  closed 
up  in  thinking  of  her.  He  decided  that  when  he 
had  grown  up  he  would  purchase  a  larger  house 
than  this  and  have  her  come  to  see  him.  There 
was  a  not  quite  understandable  consolation  in  this 
thought.  It  was  still  raining,  and  he  began  to 
wonder  where  he  was  going  to  sleep. 


Chapter  Four 
PEEWEE  CANNOT  STAY  AWAY 

Whenever  he  was  tired  or  hungry  —  his  only 
causes  of  low  spirits  —  Peewee  thought  of  Mrs. 
Markyn.  The  certainty  which  had  been  made 
plain  to  him  that  his  existence  was  a  misfortune 
to  her  had  determined  him  never  to  go  where 
she  might  see  him.  He  did  not  want  her  to  be 
unhappy.  As  to  his  father,  the  most  definite 
feeling  he  had  toward  him  was  anger.  He  had 
not  wanted  any  parents,  and  had  even  felt  a 
superiority  over  other  boys  who  had  relatives 
who  could  forbid  them  to  do  the  things  they 
wanted.  It  was  clear  to  him  that  his  father 
threatened  his  liberty  more  actively  than  the 
agents  of  the  Juvenile  Court  ever  had  done.  His 
father  had  more  personal  interest  in  discovering 
him  than  any  agents;  and  the  least  that  this 
discovery  possibly  could  mean  was  that  Peewee 

65 


66  Peewee 

would  be  put  away  where  his  existence  could  be 
concealed. 

To  be  put  where  he  could  be  concealed  im 
plied  possibly  an  institution  of  some  sort.  It 
implied  certainly  a  regulation  of  his  life  by 
others.  Incidentally,  but  importantly,  it  im 
plied  being  put  to  bed  at  a  stated  hour.  He 
was  conscious  that  it  might  imply  much  more 
unpleasant  things  than  that.  Peewee  assured 
himself  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  his  father.  He 
resented  his  existence,  but  he  was  confident  of 
avoiding  him  by  his  wits. 

In  the  late  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  after 
his  visit  to  the  State  Street  house  he  stood  in 
Wabash  Avenue  near  Washington  Street,  ob 
serving  with  a  speculative  eye  a  flower  stand 
conducted  by  an  Italian.  As  the  search  which 
his  father  must  have  instituted  for  him  would 
be  for  a  newsboy,  he  had  not  dared  to  sell  any 
newspapers.  The  omission  had  unpleasant  con 
sequences.  He  perceived  that  if  he  did  not  sell 
something  he  soon  would  not  be  able  to  eat. 

The  only  business  he  knew  of,  besides  the 
selling  of  newspapers,  which  could  be  engaged 


Peewee  Cannot  Stay  Away        67 

in  'by  so  young  a  person  as  himself,  was  the 
selling  of  flowers  or  chewing  gum.  These  had 
not,  he  knew,  the  standing  which  his  former 
business  had;  boys  have  sold  newspapers  for  so 
long  that  grown  men  who  sell  them  appear  to  be 
invading  one  of  boys'  established  rights ;  but  the 
selling  of  flowers  and  chewing  gum  is  regarded 
as  irregular.  He  knew,  by  observation,  the 
method  of  the  flower  business  but  not  the  source 
from  which  the  young  merchants  obtained  their 
stocks. 

He  bargained,  after  reflection,  with  the  Italian 
for  a  small  handful  of  his  most  faded  flowers, 
and  went  west  to  Clark  Street.  Here  he  turned 
north,  inspecting  through  their  doorways  the  in 
teriors  of  the  somewhat  questionable  cafes.  If 
he  saw  a  man  and  woman  inside  seated  together 
at  a  table,  he  pulled  off  his  disreputable  cap 
and  went  in.  With  his  apprehensive  stare  fixed 
on  proprietor  and  waiters  and  ready  at  any  move 
on  their  parts  to  run,  he  laid  one  of  the  flowers 
on  the  table  in  front  of  the  woman.  The  price 
he  asked  for  each  flower  was  five  cents.  Some 
times  the  woman  took  the  flower  and  her  escort 


68  Peewee 

refused  to  pay  him;  sometimes  the  escort  gave 
him  more  than  he  had  asked.  At  ten  o'clock  at 
night  he  had  only  one  flower  left. 

An  inspection  of  the  most  brightly  lighted  of 
the  nearby  cafes  revealed  a  young  lady  with 
abnormally  red  cheeks  and  remarkably  black 
eyebrows  and  eye-lashes  in  conversation  with  a 
gentleman  at  a  table  not  too  far  from  the  door. 
He  went  in  and  put  the  flower  on  the  table  in 
front  of  her. 

"  What  a  pretty  boy! "  she  said. 

She  stretched  out  a  plump  and  not  clean  hand 
toward  him  with  a  gesture  which  enveloped  him 
in  a  breath  of  strong  perfume,  and  he  backed 
rapidly  away. 

"  Five  cents,"  he  said. 

"  Catch  him,"  she  directed  the  man  with  her. 
"  I  want  to  kiss  him." 

As  he  continued  to  back  anxiously  toward  the 
door,  but  still  keeping  a  proprietorial  gaze  upon 
the  flower,  she  fumbled  in  her  pocket  book  and 
produced  twenty-five  cents. 

"  I'll  give  you  this  for  the  flower,"  she  offered, 
"if  you'll  let  me  kiss  you." 


Peewee  Cannot  Stay  Away       69 

He  considered,  gazing  at  the  coin.  By  de 
grees  he  guardedly  approached  and  she  kissed 
him  upon  his  mouth  with  soft,  damp  lips.  He 
seized  the  quarter  and  ran  out  into  the  street, 
and  stood  gazing  back  at  the  entrance,  rubbing 
his  lips  and  thinking  about  Mrs.  Markyn. 

The  women  he  had  known  best  had  been  ma 
trons  of  institutions,  generally  kind  but  always 
official.  He  had  appreciated  fully  Mrs.  Markyn's 
difference  from  them,  as  he  was  appreciating  now, 
in  his  sophistication,  her  difference  from  the 
woman  who  had  just  kissed  him.  How  attractive 
Mrs.  Markyn  had  seemed,  when  he  had  seen  her 
come  up  the  stairs !  He  could  recall  the  sound  of 
her  voice  and  of  her  clear,  sweet  laughter. 

He  resented  the  kiss  that  had  just  been  given 
him.  He  did  not  know  why  it  had  made  him 
feel  suddenly  small  and  lonesome.  He  looked 
south  in  the  direction  he  had  been  intending  to 
go,  but  instead  walked  north  and  east  to  look,  in 
the  safety  of  the  darkness,  at  his  father's  house. 

The  windows  of  the  lower  part  of  the  house 
were  lighted,  but  he  neglected  them  to  watch 
the  dimmer  square  above  them  which  marked 


70  Peewee 

the  bedroom  window.  He  stirred  excitedly  as, 
after  a  long  wait,  the  light  of  this  window  sud 
denly  brightened  as  someone  turned  on  the  elec 
trics  within.  Mrs.  Markyn  came  to  the  win 
dow,  stood  an  instant  looking  out  at  the  sky, 
and  then  pulled  down  the  shade.  He  breathed 
deeply.  Whatever  it  was  within  himself  that 
had  been  tormenting  him  had  been  quieted.  He 
no  longer  felt  tired,  and  as  he  moved  away  he 
skipped  from  edge  to  edge  of  the  sidewalk,  and 
made  spirited  attacks  on  imaginary  enemies 
lying  in  wait  for  him. 

It  would  not  do,  he  decided,  to  come  near  the 
house  by  daylight,  but  he  could  come  here  and 
perhaps  obtain  these  glimpses  of  her  in  the  dark. 

He  came  on  the  next  two  nights,  but  did  not 
see  her.  Was  it  because  she  had  gone  out  some 
where  before  he  got  there?  On  the  succeeding 
afternoon  he  walked  out  along  the  shore  of  the 
lake  to  be  on  hand  as  soon  as  it  got  dark.  The 
children's  bathing  beach  penned  in  the  curve  of 
the  concrete  esplanade  along  the  lake  beside  the 
Lake  Shore  Drive  was  crowded  with  little 
figures.  He  moved  on  past  them  to  the  end 


Peewee  Cannot  Stay  Away       71 

of  the  street  on  which  the  house  stood.  He 
could  not,  from  this  distance,  see  the  house.  A 
limousine  was  standing  opposite  where  the  house 
must  be.  He  could  not  see  who  it  was  that  came 
out  and  got  into  it,  and  it  rolled  away.  Pres 
ently  he  saw  it  reappear  a  few  blocks  to  the 
north  and  stop  where  the  drive  came  closest  to 
the  lake.  Mrs.  Markyn's  slender  figure  de 
scended  from  it;  she  crossed  the  bridle-path  and 
strip  of  greensward  to  the  esplanade  and  moved 
in  his  direction,  looking  at  the  children  and  the 
lake,  while  the  motor  awaited  her  upon  the  drive. 
Peewee  thought  he  ought  to  run  away;  then 
he  reflected  that  to  run  would  attract  her  atten 
tion.  The  best  thing,  he  decided,  was  to  sit  still 
and  not  to  look  at  her.  But  as  she  passed  in 
front  of  him  he  was  unable  not  to  look.  His 
great  eyes,  fixed  eagerly  upon  her,  caught  her 
own.  His  heart  thumped  as  he  saw  her  smile 
at  him,  and  he  was  terrified  by  the  impression 
that  she.  knew  who  he  was.  Then  he  realized 
that  if  she  had  known  she  would  not  have  smiled. 
She  smiled  because  she  was  happy.  If  she  was 
happy  it  was  because  he  was  letting  her  be  so.  He 


72  Peewee 

did  not  consciously  formulate  this  or  what  it  made 
him  feel  to  realize  that  she  was  happy,  but  he 
warmed  pleasantly.  She  stopped  a  few  moments 
near  him  to  watch  the  children ;  then  she  walked 
across  the  grass  to  the  motor,  and  got  in  and 
went  away. 

Did  she  walk  here  every  day?  He  deter 
mined  to  investigate  that.  The  next  day  she 
did  not  come,  or  the  day  following.  On  the 
third  day  the  motor  reappeared  and  she  took 
the  same  short  walk.  She  smiled  again  at  see 
ing  him,  and  he  saw  recognition  in  her  of  having 
seen  him  there  before. 

"  Hullo,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  make  any  reply  but  gazed  at  her 
intently. 

In  the  two  succeeding  weeks  he  saw  her,  in 
all,  six  times.  She  grew  accustomed  to  seeing 
him  there,  and  twice  she  stopped  and  spoke  some 
unimportant  words  to  him.  It  was  quite  safe, 
he  perceived,  for  him  to  see  her  like  this ;  she  did 
not  make  distinction  between  him  and  the  other 
children  that  she  saw,  and  had  no  suspicion  that 
he  was  related  to  her. 


Peewee  Cannot  Stay  Away       73 

Exactly  how,  he  wondered,  was  he  related  to 
her? 

When  the  motor  had  gone  away,  he  went  to 
Clark  Street  and  caught  a  "  hitch "  through 
downtown  to  Adams  Street  and  another  west 
almost  to  Halsted.  Here  he  dropped  down  and 
took  the  sidewalk.  This  progression  brought 
him  to  a  stairway  descending  to  a  basement  en 
trance.  Pendant  beside  the  entrance  was  a 
string  of  shoes  —  none  new;  above  the  doorway 
was  a  sign,  "  Shoes  for  One-legged  Men  Our 
Specialty,"  and  beside  the  entrance  hung  shoes, 
not  in  pairs,  but  one  by  one. 

At  the  stairfoot  a  Greek  a  little  larger  than 
a  dwarf  was  patching  shoes  upon  a  cobbler's 
bench.  In  the  room  visible  through  the  door 
an  immense  woman  moved  slowly  about  and 
four  small  children  were  playing  with  bits  of 
leather  on  the  floor. 

Peewee  sat  down  upon  the  upper  step. 

"  Papoulas,"  he  inquired,  eyeing  the  children, 
"  how  many  people  make  a  family?  " 

The  question  appeared  not  fully  plain  to  the 
Greek. 


74  peewee 

"  Everybody  has  a  father  and  a  mother,"  Pee 
wee  helped. 

The  Greek  appeared  now  to  understand. 

"Also  grandfathers  —  two  grandfathers.  One 
is  his  father's  father,  the  other  is  his  mother's. 
He  has  two  grandmothers,  too.  The  fathers  of 
grandfathers  are  called  great-grandfathers.  It 
is  the  same  with  grandmothers." 

He  finished  the  patch  he  was  making;  then  he 
recommenced. 

"  The  brothers  of  his  father  are  his  uncles.  So 
are  his  mother's  brothers.  Their  sisters  are  his 
aunts.  The  children  of  his  uncles  and  his  aunts 
are  his  cousins." 

Peewee  adjusted  his  knowledge  in  accordance 
with  these  facts.  He  had  been  indefinitely 
aware  of  these  relationships,  but  had  wanted 
what  he  knew  made  definite.  Jeffrey  Markyn, 
Third,  these  things  established,  was  his  uncle. 
Jeffrey,  Second  had  been  his  grandfather. 

Some  words  of  the  obituary  shown  him  by 
the  truck  driver  had  lingered  in  his  head.  "  Jef 
frey  Markyn,  Second,"  it  had  said,  —  "  One  of 
the  builders  of  Chicago."  He  had  been  inter- 


Peewee  Cannot  Stay  Away       75 

ested  in  this  because  it  had  not  previously  oc 
curred  to  him  that  the  city  had  been  built.  It 
grew,  he  had  observed,  by  buildings  being  added, 
and  it  improved  by  old  buildings  being  torn 
down  and  new  ones  being  erected  in  their  place. 
But  accepting  it  as  it  was,  he  had  neglected  to 
speculate  as  to  the  time  when  there  had  been  no 
city  here  at  all. 

He  looked  up  with  new  interest  at  the  sur 
rounding  buildings.  Had  Jeffrey,  Second,  he 
wondered,  built  any  ones  among  these?  Had 
he  built  them  with  his  own  hands,  or  simply 
"  bossed "  their  building?  How  did  one  go 
about  it  to  build  a  city."  He  began  to  feel  a 
certain  pride  in  his  grandfather,  the  city-builder, 
and  a  desire  to  emulate  him,  considering  whether, 
after  he  had  grown  up,  he  would  not  select  an 
eligible  site  and  construct  a  city  for  himself. 

The  original  Jeffrey  Markyn  —  he  who  had 
been  concerned  in  the  Markyn-Beman  "wheat 
corner,"  whatever  that  might  have  been  —  had 
been  his  great-grandfather.  These  facts  did  not 
touch,  however,  the  question  which  he  had  at 
heart. 


76  peewee 

'  What,"  he  inquired  of  Papoulas,  "is  a  per 
son  to  his  father's  wife?  " 

"  When  she  is  not  his  mother? " 

"  Yes." 

"  She  is  then  his  step-mother,"  the  Greek  re 
plied.  But  he  continued  to  reflect.  It  was 
not  always  the  case,  in  the  circles  in  which  he 
moved,  that  she  was  a  step-mother.  "  That  is,  if 
his  father  and  mother  were  married,"  he  added. 
"  If  they  were  not,  he  is  not  any  relation  to  her 
at  all." 

"  Not  anything? " 

"  Not  anything." 

Peewee  got  up  and  moved  away  disconsol 
ately.  His  resentment  against  his  father  in 
creased.  Exactly  what  marriage  had  to  do  with 
it  was  not  perfectly  plain,  but  his  father  had 
stated  definitely  that  he  had  not  married  Peewee's 
mother.  Consequently  his  father  had  related 
Peewee  to  a  number  of  persons  who  were  perhaps 
somewhat  interesting  in  their  way;  but  by  his 
neglect  had  left  him  unrelated  to  the  one  person 
whose  relationship  Peewee  would  have  liked  to 
claim. 


Chapter  Five 
A  DIFFERENT  SORT  OF  KISS 

Peewee  sat  on  the  breakwater  beside  the  lake, 
awaiting  her.  The  day  was  warm  and  bright 
with  sun,  but  he  had  begun  to  think  that  he 
was  to  be  disappointed.  It  was,  he  felt  certain, 
almost  four  o'clock,  and  he  had  seen  no  sign  yet 
of  the  limousine  either  on  the  drive  or  on  the 
cross  street.  Then  suddenly  he  looked  up  and 
saw  her. 

She  had  not  come  in  the  motor;  she  had  come 
on  foot.  What  was  still  more  unusual,  she  was 
not  strolling  along  the  esplanade.  She  was 
coming  from  the  direction  of  the  drive,  and,  by 
her  look,  directly  to  him.  Pie  had  a  frightened 
sense  of  something  new  and  extraordinary  in  her. 

"  Don't  run  away,"  she  called  to  him  across 
the  grass. 

Her  smile  checked  his  momentary  panic. 

77 


78  Peewee 

"  Why  don't  we  both  sit  down? "  she  offered, 
when  she  had  reached  him. 

She  seated  herself  on  the  concrete  step  above 
the  breakwater  and  waited,  while  he  gazed  at 
her  uncertainly.  He  felt  indefinitely  that  he 
ought  to  go  away;  then,  in  spite  of  himself,  he 
sat  down  beside  her.  He  did  not  tell  himself 
consciously  that  there  was  tension  in  her  which 
she  was  trying  to  hide,  but  he  was  apprehensive. 

"  This  is  a  nice  place  to  come,"  she  said. 

"  Yes'm,"  he  replied. 

"  You  come  here  almost  every  day,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Is  that  because  you  find  it  pleasant er  here 
than  at  home? " 

His  pulse  quickened.      '  Yes'm." 

"Where  is  your  home?"  she  asked. 

He  looked  at  her  with  calculated  innocence; 
the  uneasiness  with  which  she  had  impressed  him 
increased.  "  What'm?  "  he  asked. 

"Where  do  you  live?" 

Anybody,  he  understood,  might  ask  that  ques 
tion,  but  the  feeling  she  gave  him  was  that  she 


A  Different  Sort  of  Kiss          79 

was  trying  to  find  out  about  him.  He  scuffed 
his  broken,  too-large  shoes  against  the  concrete 
in  embarrassment.  His  large,  innocent  eyes,  as 
blue  as  her's  and  fringed  with  their  long  black 
lashes,  studied  her.  They  would  not,  he  knew, 
reveal  to  her  his  thought.  The  duplicity  and 
self-confidence  he  had  gained  in  his  combat  with 
charity  workers  and  agents  anxious  to  incarcer 
ate  him  in  institutions  assured  him  of  that.  If 
they  had  not  been  able  to  find  out  from  him 
things  he  did  not  want  to  tell,  neither,  he  was 
quite  confident,  could  she. 

"  On  Desplaines  Street,"  he  prevaricated. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  the  number?  " 

He  gave  a  number,  chosen  swiftly  and  at 
hazard,  but  it  was  astutely  suited  to  a  neighbor 
hood  in  which  he  might  live. 

"  That  is  a  long  way  from  here,"  she  said 
thoughtfully.  "  How  is  it  that  I  have  seen  you 
here  so  often?  Do  you  come  all  that  distance 
every  day? " 

He  decided  he  must  distract  her  from  this 
line  of  thought.  "When  I  don't  work,"  he 
answered  craftily. 


80  Peewee 

'  Work? "  Her  voice  showed  her  surprise. 
"  Does  a  little  boy  like  you  work?  What  do  you 
do?  Sell  newspapers? " 

Was  her  question  merely  natural?  There 
were  not  many  things,  he  knew,  which  so  small  a 
boy  could  do  except  sell  newspapers;  but  it  was 
not  plain  whether  she  was  aware  of  that  or 
whether  her  inquiry  showed  some  knowledge  of 
him. 

"  I  take  bundles,"  he  replied  after  reflecting. 

"  For  whom? " 

Again  he  thought.     "  For  a  drug  store." 

"What  drug  store?" 

"  Near  us." 

"  Us.     Who  is  that  you  live  with?  " 

Now,  he  felt  he  could  completely  throw  her 
off.  "  I  live  with  my  mudder,"  he  answered 
with  no  appreciable  pause. 

He  saw  her  looking  keenly  at  him.  '  What 
is  your  name  ?  " 

He  gave  her  one  which  he  had  spelled  out  on 
a  sign  on  his  way  there. 

"And  your  first  name?  "     "  Tom." 

He  waited  anxiously.    When  she  spoke  again, 


A  Different  Sort  of  Kiss          81 

he  marked  the  nervous  catching  of  her  voice. 

"  Does  your  —  father  live  with  you?  " 

She  knew,  then,  was  the  first  feeling  that  he 
had;  or  if  she  did  not  know,  something  had 
directed  her  at  least  in  the  direction  of  the  truth. 
She  suspected  some  mystery  about  his  father. 
He  choked,  "  Yes'm." 

"What  does  your  father  do?  " 

"  He  buys  old  things."  He  was  sticking 
desperately  to  the  fiction  he  had  started. 

'  You  mean  old  furniture?  " 

"  No'm."  His  gaze,  wandering  despairingly, 
rested  on  his  frayed  trouser-knee.  "  Old  clo'es.  " 

"  Have  you  any  brothers  or  sisters?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Tell  me  about  them." 

"  Sure."  He  went  swiftly  into  details  of  an 
imaginary  family;  he  would  create,  he  thought, 
enough  relatives  to  convince  her  if  he  could. 

"  Do  any  of  them "  —  he  heard  the  slight 
catch  in  her  voice  —  "  look  at  all  like  you?  " 

"What'm?" 

"^Children  in  the  same  family  often  look 
alike.  You  know  that,  don't  you  ? " 


82  Peewee 

"  Yes'm." 

"Do  any  of  the  other  children  look  like 
you?" 

He  took  time  for  natural  reflection  —  noth 
ing  more.  "  Yes'm." 

'  Then   people    would   know   that   you    and 
they  were  brothers  and  sister?  " 

"  Sure." 

"And  they  and  you  —  Do  you  look  like  your 
father? " 

"  Sure." 

'  You've  always  called  him  'father,'  I  sup 
pose?" 

"  Sure  I  call  my  fadder  'fadder'." 

His  throat  had  dried.  Did  she  know  so  much 
that  he  could  not  deceive  her?  She  was  ques 
tioning  him  obviously  for  a  purposed  end.  He 
felt  her  slender  fingers  grasp  his  chin.  He  did 
not  resist  as  she  turned  his  face  upward  to  hers, 
and  he  met  miserably,  but  with  pretended  frank 
ness  her  long  tense  scrutiny  of  his  features.  Her 
eyes,  he  saw,  were  indecisive  and  uncertain.  She 
drew  a  deep,  troubled  breath. 

"Did   you   ever,"   she   asked,   when   he   had 


A  Different  Sort  of  Kiss          83 

waited  through  her  long  pause,  "  hear  the  name 
Markyn?" 

He  considered,  in  his  panic,  how  to  answer 
that.  "  Yes'm." 

"Where?" 

"  It's  on  wagons." 

"  Yes ;    on    trucks.     The    Markyn    Transfer 
Company  —  that  is  what  you  mean?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"You've  never  heard  it  anywhere  else?" 

"  No'm." 

She  paused  again.  "  Or,"  she  said  nervously, 
"  the  name  Lampert?  " 

He  swallowed.     "  No'm." 

"  You  might  know  the  man  without  knowing 
his  name  —  a  very  big,  rough  man.  He  used  to 
be  a  barn  boss  once  for  that  company  we  just 
spoke  about  —  the  Markyn  Company.  Do  you 
know  any  barn  boss?  Do  you  know  any  man 
like  that?" 

"  No'm." 

He  watched  anxiously  to  see  what  the  result 
of  his  replies  had  been.  He  thought  relievedly 
that  he  saw  conviction  forming  in  her  now  that 


84  Peewee 

he  was  not  the  boy  whom  she  had  feared  he  was. 
It  gave  him  no  sense  of  triumph  if  this  was  so, 
but  only  of  escape.  What  he  understood  most 
plainly  was  that,  if  she  knew  about  him,  it  would 
hurt  her;  then  she  would  shrink  away  from  him. 
He  could  not  imagine  anything  more  terrible  than 
to  have  her  hate  him.  He  was  struggling  against 
feelings  that  made  him  want  to  cry.  He  wanted 
to  touch  her ;  he  wanted  her  to  touch  him  again. 

She  had  got  up ;  when  he  looked  up  at  her,  he 
saw  her  holding  out  a  dollar  to  him.  His 
thought  did  not  supply  the  reason  why  he  did 
not  like  to  receive  even  that  benefit  from  her. 

"You'd  better  take  it,"  she  urged.  "You 
don't  have  to  take  it  home,  you  know;  you  can 
spend  it  on  moving  picture  shows." 

He  understood  that  she  could  not  know  that 
he  had  had  nothing  to  eat  since  the  night  before. 
He  had  not  recollected  that  himself  until  he  saw 
the  dollar;  he  did  not  waste  thought  on  anything 
so  ordinary  as  missed  meals.  As  he  got  up  and 
took  the  money,  he  observed  some  definite 
change  in  the  way  she  looked  at  him.  She 
was  thoughtful;  her  thoughts,  he  saw,  were  not 


A  Different  Sort  of  Kiss          85 

happy,  but  they  appeared  to  stir  her  to  tender 
ness  toward  him. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for  you?"  she 
asked.  "  Do  you  need  help  in  any  way?  " 

"  No'm." 

"  Is  your  mother  kind  to  you? " 

He  thought  of  the  dissolute,  dead  woman,  who 
had  said  she  was  his  mother ;  toward  her  his  only 
feeling  had  been  fear. 

"  Yes'm,"  he  told  her. 

!<  Then  she  loves  you.  She  might  love  you 
and  still  not  be  kind;  but  if  she  is  kind  she  surely 
loves  you.  Love  is  what  makes  it  terrible  to  be 
a  mother.  It  is  terrible  to  lose  a  child,  but  it 
must  be  almost  as  terrible  to  see  one  grow  up. 
Mothers  give  children  to  the  world  without 
knowing  what  their  children  are  going  to  grow 
up  to  be,  and  no  matter  what  a  child  becomes 
they  have  to  go  on  loving  it.  Of  course,  you 
don't  understand  me." 

"  No'm." 

"You  can  understand  this  at  least,  that  bad 
boys  break  their  mothers'  hearts  and  good  boys 
make  them  happy." 


86  Peewee 

He  had  never  considered  anything  like  this 
before;  it  might  be  so,  however,  he  decided. 
"  Yes'm." 

"  So  a  boy  when  he  is  going  to  do  anything, 
ought  to  think  whether  it  will  make  his  mother 
glad  or  sorry.  Do  you  understand  that? " 

The  newness  of  the  idea  made  it  extremely  in 
teresting.  He  could  not  recall  much  evidence 
of  what  she  said  in  the  mothers  and  sons  whom 
he  had  impersonally  observed,  but  he  wanted  to 
agree  with  her. 

"  Yes'm,"  he  said. 

"  You'll  do  that,  won't  you?  " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  You're  a  nice  boy,"  she  said,  "in  spite  of  all 
your  dirt." 

She  was  looking  queerly  down  at  him;  she 
turned  his  face  up  again  to  hers  and  studied  it, 
but  not  anxiously  as  she  did  before.  Quite  sud 
denly  she  bent  down  toward  him.  He  did  not 
know  what  she  was  going  to  do  until  her  felt  her 
lips.  They  were  cool  and  sweet  against  his 
cheek.  Then  a  sob  rose  in  his  throat,  which 
closed  to  keep  it  back,  and  some  unexpected 


A  Different  Sort  of  Kiss          87 

startling  feeling  held  him  frozen.  She  too 
seemed  stirred  and  startled ;  she  trembled  so  that 
he  could  see  it,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  unex 
pected  tears.  She  stared  an  instant  at  him  in 
this  way,  then  turned  and  almost  ran  away  from 
him  across  the  grass. 

When  she  had  got  a  block  away,  he  quickened 
suddenly  into  movement,  and  ran  after  her.  He 
saw  her  go  into  his  father's  house,  and  stood  a 
long  while  looking  at  the  great  luxurious  dwell 
ing,  with  its  high  iron  fence  to  keep  out  in 
truders.  She  had  talked,  he  was  recalling  now, 
for  quite  half  an  hour  with  him;  she  had  shown 
interest  in  him  —  no  matter  what  the  cause  — 
and  the  recollection  warmed  him. 

While  he  watched,  a  woman  in  striped  kitchen 
dress  came  out  at  a  rear  door  and  threw  away 
some  refuse,  and  the  sight  reminded  him  of  his 
dollar.  As  he  went  slowly  back  downtown,  he 
was  not  consciously  considering  what  her  conver 
sation  with  him  must  mean.  To  an  older  person, 
that  she  had  connected  the  name  Lampert  only 
with  the  barn  boss  would  have  been  evidence  that 
she  did  not  know  about  his  mother.  It  was  plain 


88  Peewee 

that  she  suspected  the  existence  of  a  child.  She 
would  have  seemed,  to  an  older  person,  to  have 
been  trying  to  deny  within  herself  the  possibility 
of  that  existence;  to  have  been  eager  that  he 
should  convince  her  that  he  was  not  the  child. 
But  why  should  she  connect  the  child  with  him? 
She  had  grown  used  to  seeing  him,  perhaps,  in 
thinking  of  the  suspected  child,  she  had  perceived 
his  amazing  likeness  to  his  father.  This  is  what 
an  older  person  might  have  supposed. 

What  Peewee  felt  was  simply  triumph.  Some 
one  had  told  her  something  —  he  did  not  know 
what  or  who;  plainly  it  had  not  been  told  by  his 
father.  But  his  lies  had  convinced  her  that  it 
was  not  true.  She  would  remain  convinced,  he 
still  could  see  her  and  she  still  would  be  happy. 

Suddenly  he  halted,  knicking  one  shoe  miser 
ably  against  the  other ;  it  had  occurred  to  him  that 
whoever  had  told  her  this  much  might  tell  her 
more.  If  she  was  told  more,  then  lies  would  not 
convince  her.  He  moved  on,  slowly  and  unhap 
pily;  it  was  plain  to  him  that  unless  he  knew  that 
she  was  not  going  to  be  told  anything  more  he 
could  not  dare  to  see  her  again. 


Chapter  Six 
AN  UNDESIRABLE  GRANDFATHER 

In  a  drug  store  at  Division  Street  and  State 
Peewee  got  his  dollar  converted  into  small 
change.  Experience  had  taught  him  that,  if  he 
proffered  so  large  a  coin  to  spend,  it  might 
prove  too  great  a  temptation  to  the  seller  and 
he  might  get  nothing  back,  but  a  boy  asking 
for  change  had  the  air  of  one  merely  doing  an 
errand.  He  exchanged  three  of  his  pennies  at 
the  alley  door  of  a  lunchrobm  for  as  large  a 
piece  of  stale  bread  as  they  would  buy,  and 
moved  on,  eating  it.  He  was  still  speculating 
as  to  what  she  could  have  been  told. 

He  turned  west  at  Chicago  Avenue  and  his 
step  quickened  with  decision.  At  this  hour  of 
the  day  and  in  summer  he  was  not  likely  to 
be  molested  by  agents  of  justice  or  charity,  so  he 
had  the  freedom  of  the  streets.  He  caught  the 
tailboard  of  an  express  wagon  traveling  in  his 

89 


90  Peewee 

direction,  and  at  Halsted  Street  dropped  again 
to  the  pavement.  He  crossed  the  long  viaducts 
and  bridges  until  he  came  to  Fulton  Street,  and 
turned  again  and  halted  finally  after  a  long 
walk. 

Across  the  street  from  him  trucks  entered 
and  came  out  of  a  dingy,  low  building,  lettered, 
"  Markyn  Transfer  Company  Stable  No.  1."  As 
he  crossed  to  one  of  the  wide  doors  and  looked 
in,  the  large  men  who  moved  about  their  affairs 
within,  in  a  smell  of  gasoline  and  oil,  paid  no 
attention  to  him.  There  was,  he  knew,  no  risk 
of  meeting  here  any  member  of  the  Markyn 
family;  these  people  were  underlings.  He  went 
in  guardedly,  expectant  of  being  ordered  out, 
but  reached  the  door  of  the  cage-like  office  un 
challenged  and  looked  in.  He  saw  two  clerks 
inside  busy  with  papers.  He  stepped  in  and  sat 
down  upon  the  bench  inside  the  door  and 
watched  the  clerks  and  the  drivers  who  passed 
in  and  out  with  their  reports.  When  he  had  sat 
for  half  an  hour,  he  noted  that  one  of  the  clerks 
was  becoming  oppressed  by  his  continued 
presence. 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather      91 

!<  What  you  waiting  for,  kid? "  the  man 
inquired. 

"  I'm  waiting  for  Lampert." 

"  No  one  of  that  name  here." 

He  observed  in  the  second  clerk  an  awakening 
of  interest.  "  Used  to  be  barn  boss  at  Stable 
Three,"  the  second  clerk  told  the  first  one,  "  but 
the  old  man  fired  him.  Get  out,  kid;  no  use." 

Peewee  had  known  he  would  not  find  Lam- 
pert  here.  "  They  said  I'd  find  him  here,"  he 
insisted  craftily. 

He  sat  hopefully  a  quarter  hour  more,  noting 
that  he  was  wearing  out  the  patience  of  the 
second  clerk. 

"  Where  does  Ben  Lampert  live? "  the  clerk 
finally  asked  one  of  the  drivers. 

The  man  did  not  know.  Peewee  passed  five 
expectant  minutes.  A  man  then  put  his  head  in 
at  the  door.  "  You  asking  where  Lampert 
lives?"  he  inquired  of  the  clerk.  He  gave  a 
number  on  South  State  Street. 

;<  There  was  a  kid  stuck  here  waiting  for  him." 

Peewee  saw  over  his  shoulder  the  clerk  look 
about  for  him  and  fail  to  find  him;  he  had 


92  peewee 

slipped  out  behind  the  man  at  the  door  as  soon 
as  he  had  heard  the  number.  He  moved  south 
to  Twenty-second  Street,  then  east  to  State. 
There  began  to  be,  as  he  progressed  toward  his 
destination,  more  colored  people  on  the  side 
walks  and  standing  in  the  doorways.  He  spelled 
out  on  the  store  windows  signs  advertising  por 
ters'  supplies.  The  building  corresponding  to 
the  address  which  he  had  heard  was  large  and 
dingy;  there  were  entrances  leading  to  apart 
ments  along  its  front  and  there  were  also,  as  he 
could  see  through  a  long  narrow  hall  which  had 
no  doors,  apartments  in  the  rear.  He  followed 
this  hall,  which  led  him  into  an  evil-smelling 
court  littered  with  rubbish.  Both  white  and 
colored  people  lived  here,  and  exterior  stairways 
led  upward  from  the  court  to  their  small 
apartments. 

Each  person,  the  Greek  had  said,  had  two 
grandfathers,  and  Lampert,  Peewee  compre 
hended,  being  his  mother's  father,  bore  that  rela 
tion  to  him.  He  assumed  from  the  contrast 
between  the  dismal  room  where  his  mother  had 
died  and  fine  house  where  his  father  lived,  that 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather      93 

his  mother's  father  would  live  in  one  of  the 
smaller  apartments  at  the  rear  of  the  building 
rather  than  in  one  of  the  better  ones  in  front. 
But  he  could  not  determine  which  apartment  it 
was  without  inquiries  which  he  did  not  dare  to 
make.  He  had  no  definite  plan  regarding  Lam- 
pert,  but  was  curious  about  him  because  his 
name  had  been  connected  with  whatever  Mrs. 
Markyn  had  been  told.  Was  it  Lampert  who 
had  told  her?  After  studying  the  apartments  a 
long  while  from  the  court,  he  went  out  again  into 
the  street. 

By  ten  o'clock  he  had  wandered  as  far  as 
Thirty-first  Street,  and  was  begining  to  think 
about  a  place  where  he  could  sleep.  He  turned 
into  a  wide  street  and,  in  its  darkest  spot,  stopped 
and  put  two  of  his  pennies  in  a  separate  pocket; 
then  he  carefully  wrapped  the  remaining  ninety- 
five  cents  in  a  rag  which  he  had  picked  up  and 
put  them  inside  his  Shirt.  He  followed  a  pas 
sageway  between  two  buildings  and  knocked  at 
a  basement  door.  An  unkempt  old  woman,  in 
return  for  his  two  pennies,  admitted  him  into 
a  darkened,  musty  cellar.  He  followed  her 


94  Peewee 

across  the  floor  where  numerous  figures,  some 
large,  some  small,  were  already  stretched  in 
sleep,  and  lay  down  in  the  corner  which  she 
pointed  out. 

In  the  morning,  when  the  uncomfortable 
forms  about  Peewee  began  to  stir,  he  got  up  and 
went  out.  It  was  just  beginning  to  be  light. 
He  followed  an  alley  to  the  north  and,  in  the 
damp  chill  of  morning,  sat  down  against  a 
stable  door  to  wait.  He  had  learned  by  now 
the  methods  of  the  flower  business.  The  oppos 
ing  door,  which  he  was  watching,  was  a  florist's. 
It  was  unlocked  after  a  time,  as  the  neighbor 
hood  began  to  awaken,  and  was  left  standing 
open.  He  could  see  the  florist  inside,  sorting  his 
stock.  The  man  threw  the  most  faded  flowers 
away,  put  the  fresh  ones  back,  and  put  aside 
those  which  were  not  fresh  enough  for  sale  but 
were  still  not  quite  faded.  As  soon  as  he  had 
finished,  Peewee  went  in  and  bargained  for  a 
handful  of  carnations  of  the  last  sort.  He 
wrapped  them  carefully  in  a  newspaper  and 
went  along  the  alley  and  the  streets,  crossing  the 
railroad  tracks  to  the  lake,  where  he  sat  down 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather      95 

on  the  narrow  strip  of  beach.  He  picked  the 
most  faded  leaves  from  his  flowers  and  broke  off 
the  dead  ends  of  their  stems.  Then  he  dug  a 
hole  with  his  fingers  in  the  sand,  and  the  bot 
tom  of  the  hole  filled  at  once  with  water.  He 
laid  the  flowers  round  the  hole  with  their  stems 
in  the  water,  and  covered  them  with  his  news 
paper. 

In  the  early  afternoon  he  gathered  up  his 
flowers  and  went  back  to  Thirty-first  Street. 
By  dark,  the  flowers  which  he  had  not  sold  were 
so  faded  that  when  he  offered  them  people  only 
laughed;  and  he  was  back  close  to  the  building 
where  Lampert  lived.  He  had  decided  now, 
with  reference  to  Lampert,  that  he  would  merely 
go  into  the  court  and  wait.  People  would  be 
passing  in  and  out,  perhaps  Lampert  among 
them,  and  something  might  occur  to  point  him 
out  to  him. 

With  dusk  a  fog  had  come  in  from  the  lake, 
which  turned  to  water  on  the  stair-rails  and  the 
eaves  and  dripped  into  the  court.  In  the  mist 
and  darkness  which  filled  the  badly  lighted  court, 
he  could  not  tell  much  about  the  people  passing 


96  Peewee 

except  as  they  entered  or  left  the  long  hall.  He 
had  been  watching  there  an  hour  when  he  saw 
come  into  the  court  the  colored  girl  who  had 
been  his  mother's  maid  —  dressed  in  expensive 
clothes  which  did  not  fit  her  and  teetering  as 
she  walked  on  her  high-heeled  shoes.  He  got 
up  nervously.  She  might  not  recognize  him. 
He  had  no  specific  reason  for  fearing  her  if  she 
did,  but  he  watched  her  anxiously.  She  crossed 
the  court,  passing  him,  and  hesitated  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs.  She  turned  back  then,  repassing 
him,  and  faced  him  from  the  entrance  to  the 
court. 

"What  you  doin*  in  here,  honey?" 

"  NothinY' 

What  her  recognition  might  signify  as  re 
garded  himself,  he  did  not  know.  There  was, 
he  appreciated,  no  means  of  exit  from  the  court 
except  the  hall.  He  approached  her  watchfully, 
depending  upon  his  quickness  to  dodge  past, 
but  she  was  too  quick  for  him  and  seized  him 
by  the  arm. 

"  This  here,"  she  exulted,  "  must  be  my  lucky 
night!" 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather      97 

He  had  ceased  struggling  as  soon  as  he  had 
tested  the  firmness  of  her  grasp.  Whatever  she 
might  mean  to  do  with  him  could  not  be  frus 
trated  by  physical  action  on  his  part;  experience 
long  before  had  taught  him  the  futility  of  such 
struggles  with  grown-ups.  His  short  legs  could 
hardly  keep  pace  with  her,  as  she  hurried  him 
up  one  of  the  long  stairs  and  into  a  dark  hall, 
where  she  knocked  upon  a  door. 

There  came  a  challenge  from  within. 

"  It's  Mignon,"  she  replied. 

The  door  opened,  blinding  him  with  light,  and 
he  staggered  forward  as  she  pushed  him  vio 
lently  into  the  room. 

"  Here  is  the  boy,"  he  heard  her  say. 

It  was,  as  he  perceived  as  he  stood  blinking,, 
a  small  room,  poorly  furnished  and  lighted  by  a 
lamp.  A  similarly  lighted  connecting  room 
made  up  the  apartment.  A  table  with  an  oil 
cloth  cover  stood  in  its  middle ;  there  was  a  couch 
plainly  used  for  sleeping.  He  saw  staring  curi 
ously  at  him  an  elderly  woman,  a  younger 
woman  in  unsuitably  expensive  clothes  and 


98  Peewee 

wearing  rings,  and  a  big  man  with  a  red-veined 
face. 

Peewee  never  had  seen  any  of  them  before 
and  he  did  not  at  once  speculate  as  to  who  these 
people  might  be,  but  looked  at  them  belliger 
ently,  determined  that  he  would  not  be  afraid. 
The  man  came  forward  and  took  hold  of  him 
and  turned  him  to  the  light. 

He  exploded  an  oath  of  astonishment. 

The  reason  for  his  astonishment  did  not  ap 
pear  to  be  plain  to  the  colored  girl.  The  man 
took  Peewee's  small  hand  in  his  immense  one 
and  opened  the  fingers  which  held  the  faded 
flowers;  he  did  this  roughly. 

"What  were  you  doing  with  these?"  he 
asked.  "  Selling  them?  " 

Peewee  swallowed.    "  Yes." 

The  man  swore  again  and  threw  the  flowers 
against  the  wall.  He  turned  to  the  colored  girl 
and  seemed  about  to  say  something,  but  checked 
himself.  He  went  to  the  younger  of  the  two 
other  women  and  spoke  to  her,  but  Peewee  could 
not  hear  what  he  said.  Then  he  came  back,  and 
led  the  boy  into  the  small  connecting  bedroom. 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather      99 

'  You'd  just  as  leave  stay  in  here  a  little 
while,"  he  said.  '  There  ain't  anybody  going 
to  hurt  you,  you  know.  You  understand  that, 
don't  you? " 

Peewee  gulped  nervously.     "  Yes,  sir." 

"  All  right,  then." 

He  closed  the  door,  while  Peewee  stared  at 
him  uneasily.  Who  were  these  people?  What 
did  they  mean  to  do  with  him?  He  looked  ques- 
tioningly  around  the  room.  There  was  an  open 
trunk  in  it,  besides  the  bed  and  the  one  chair. 
The  trunk's  contents  of  rich-looking  dresses,  but 
torn  and  spotted,  were  scattered  on  the  open  lid 
and  hung  upon  its  sides.  Peewee's  breathing 
tightened  queerly  as  he  caught  the  faint  per 
fume  which  came  from  the  clothing  and  filled 
the  room,  and  he  moved  closer,  looking  at  the 
things.  The  scent  was  unmistakable  and  unfor 
gettable  as  he  touched  the  dresses;  his  mother's 
bedroom  had  been  heavy  with  this  strong  per 
fume  on  the  day  she  died.  Were  these  his 
mother's  things? 

He  could  hear  voices  in  the  other  room  —  the 
man's  voice,  the  colored  girl's  voice,  then  the 


100  peewee 

voice  of  the  younger  of  the  two  women.  They 
spoke  in  low  tones  and  he  could  not  distinguish 
what  they  said.  The  door  opened  and  the  elder 
woman  came  in.  She  pulled  about  the  dresses  in 
the  trunk,  took  one  and  went  out  again,  reclos- 
ing  the  door.  The  voices  began  again.  Had  they 
put  him  in  here  in  order  that  he  might  not  hear 
what  was  said?  Finally  the  door  was  opened 
and  the  younger  woman  entered. 

She  sat  down  upon  the  bed  and  drew  him  to 
her.  "  What  do  you  call  yourself? "  she  asked. 

He  told  her:    "Peewee." 

"  That's  not  a  real  name.  You  know  it  ain't 
that,  don't  you?" 

"  Yes'm." 
"What  is  your  real  name?" 

He  was  silent;  he  had  never  accepted  any 
other  name.  He  was  regaining  confidence;  her 
manner  reassured  him. 

"  You  remember  the  day  you  saw  your 
mother? " 

"  Yes'm." 

"What  did  she  call  you?" 

He  replied  after  an  instant:    "Walter." 


An  Undesirable  Grandfather    101 

"  Then  that  is  your  real  name,  ain't  it? " 
He    thought    it    best    to    agree    with    her. 

"  Yes'm." 

"  Then  if  anybody  asked  you,  you'd  tell  them 

that?" 

*  Yes'm."     He  kept  unexpressed  a  mental 
reservation. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  your  mother? " 
He  could  not  reply;  he  had  no  opinion  of  his 
mother.  His  silence  seemed  to  satisfy  the 
woman,  and  his  gaze  went  to  the  rings  upon  her 
hands,  one  of  which,  distinctly  unforgettable, 
recalled  his  dead  mother's  thin  hands  stretched 
stiffly  on  the  coverlet. 

*  You  have  her  ring,"  he  said. 

She  laughed.  "  That's  right,"  she  assented. 
"  She  was  the  bad  one;  I  was  the  good  one. 
"Now  I  wear  her  things." 

Comprehension  was  coming  to  him;  he  had 
thought  that  the  man  must  be  Lampert  and 
now  he  was  sure. 


Chapter  Seven 
A  VISTA  OF  FORTUNE 

The  certainty  as  to  the  identity  of  the  big 
man  did  not,  however,  tell  Peewee  who  the 
women  were,  and  he  speculated  upon  this  as 
the  younger  woman  led  him  back  into  the  other 
room.  The  colored  girl,  he  saw,  had  gone.  The 
dress  was  gone,  too.  She  must,  he  thought,  have 
taken  it  away  with  her.  The  man  stood  gazing 
down  at  him. 

"Are  you  hungry?"  the  man  inquired. 

"Yes  sir,"  Peewee  replied  at  once.  There 
was  never  but  one  answer  to  this  question. 

"  What  is  it  you  like  best  to  eat? " 

Peewee  reflected;  the  question  opened  attrac 
tive  possibilities.  "Strawberries,"  he  decided. 

"  Go  out  and  get  some  strawberries,"  the  man 
said  to  the  younger  woman. 

The  woman  went  out.  The  man  paced  slowly 
102 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  103 

about  the  room,  thinking.  Peewee  watched  him 
questioningly.  Was  it  possible  the  man  was 
going  to  give  him  strawberries?  His  directions 
to  the  woman  indicated  that,  but  experience  had 
taught  Peewee  to  guard  against  disappointment. 
The  return  of  the  woman  bringing  the  berries 
confirmed  the  man's  intention.  Peewee  looked 
on  expectantly  while  she  washed  the  berries  and 
put  them  in  a  dish  upon  the  table ;  she  put  sugar 
on  them  and  spread  bread  with  butter. 

"  This  what  you  wanted? "  the  man  inquired. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Say,  '  yes,  grandfather  " 

Peewee  eyed  the  berries.  "  Yes,  grand 
father." 

The  man  pointed  to  the  older  woman.  "  Call 
her  '  grandmother  ',"  he  directed. 

"  Yes,  grandmother,"  said  Peewee. 

The  man  motioned  to  the  other  woman.  "  Call 
her  '  Aunt  Nettie  V 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Nettie." 

"  You're  always  to  call  us  by  those  names, 
never  by  anything  else.  Do  you  understand?" 

Peewee  reflected.    His  father's  family,  he  had 


104  Peewee 

appreciated,  were  anxious  —  those  of  them  who 
knew  —  to  deny  his  relation  to  them;  his  moth 
er's  family,  as  it  now  appeared,  was  not  only 
eager  to  claim  the  relationship  but  insisted  that 
he  should  claim  it  too.  The  reason  for  this,  he 
could  not  guess.  He  had  no  more  wish  to  be 
related  to  them  than  to  the  Markyns,  but  he 
could  smell  the  strawberries. 

The  younger  woman  set  a  chair  and  helped 
Peewee  up  into  it.  He  took  a  spoon  in  one  dirty 
hand  and  bread  and  butter  in  the  other.  It  was, 
he  thought,  with  his  mouth  full  of  bread  and 
berries,  inexplicable  that  Mrs.  Markyn  had 
called  Lampert  "rough."  A  man  who  gave 
boys  strawberries  must, -it  appeared  to  him,  be 
classified  as  kind.  And  Lampert  proceeded  to 
give  further  evidence  of  that. 

"  How'd  you  like  to  have  strawberries  every 
day?"  he  asked. 

"  I'd  like  it." 

"  Grandfather,"  Lampert  warned. 

"  I'd  like  it,  grandfather." 

"  Even  in  winter  when  they  have  to  be  grown 
in  hothouses?  " 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  105 

"Yes,  grandfather." 

"  How'd  you  like  to  have  nice  clothes  —  warm 
ones  for  winter  and  cool  ones  for  summer? " 

"  I'd  like  it." 

"  How'd  you  like  to  have  a  nice  bed  to  sleep 
in,  in  a  nice  room  ?  " 

"  I'd  like  it." 

"  How'd  you  like  to  have  roller  skates?  How'd 
you  like  to  have  a  bicycle?  How'd  you  like  to 
have  an  automobile  to  ride  in?  " 

"  I'd  like  them,  grandfather." 

"  All  right;  I'll  get  you  all  those  things." 

Peewee  stared  at  Lampert  in  amazement. 
He  perceived  the  discrepancy  between  Lam- 
pert's  promise  and  the  surroundings  in  which 
he  lived;  he  perceived  also  the  man's  sincerity 
in  promising.  Lampert  intended  to  get  him 
these  things;  he  had  apparently  no  doubt  of  his 
ability  to  get  them.  Peewee,  looking  at  the 
women,  saw  in  their  faces  comprehension  and 
confidence  in  this  ability.  He  himself  stopped 
doubting.  He  shook  with  excitement  so  that  he 
spilled  his  berries. 

The  elder  woman,  when  he  had  finished,  took 


106  peewee 

the  dishes  and  washed  them  at  the  sink.  Lam- 
pert  continued  to  pace  up  and  down;  he  ap 
peared  to  be  continuing,  silently,  the  same  line 
of  thought. 

"  That  ain't  all,"  he  broke  out.  "  What  you 
going  to  be  when  you  grow  up  ? " 

Peewee  observed  him  silently;  ideas  upon  this 
question  had  been  fixed  in  him  by  his  relationship 
to  Jeffrey  Markyn,  Second,  but  the  contrast 
between  what  he  meant  to  be  and  what  he  was, 
prevented  his  confiding  them. 

'  You  don't  understand,"  Lampert  decided. 
:<  There's  men  that  work  for  other  men  and  get 
paid  what  they  want  to  pay  'em  and  get  fired 
when  they  want  to  fire  'em;  and  there's  men 
that  sit  in  offices  and  have  big  houses  and  ser 
vants;  they  work  when  they  want  to  work. 
Which  do  you  want  to  be? " 

"Like  that,"  said  Peewee. 

"What  business?" 

Peewee's  reply  was  instantaneous.  "  Trucks !  " 
Nothing  had  so  impressed  him  with  the  import 
ance  of  the  family  to  which  he  was  misallied  as 
their  ownership  of  trucks. 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  107 

His  life  was  made  of  what  moved  upon  the 
streets;  he  admired  taxicabs  but  he  worshipped 
trucks. 

"  That's  right!  "  Lampert  exclaimed.  "  That's 
what  it'll  be.  I'll  see  to  it  that  you  own 
trucks!" 

Peewee  studied  him  in  bewilderment.  Did  he 
mean  what  he  said?  The  man's  tone  had  been 
again  utterly  sincere,  and  Lampert's  own  ex 
citement  confirmed  this  sincerity.  Peewee  sur 
rendered  himself  to  contemplation  of  what  these 
things  must  mean  for  him.  He  would  have  at 
some  delightful  time  a  desk  where  he  would  sit 
and  give  orders  to  clerks  and  drivers;  he  would 
have  a  big  house  —  a  house  bigger  than  his 
father's;  he  would  give  parties  to  guests  dressed 
as  he  had  seen  people  dress  to  attend  the  theater, 
and  Mrs.  Markyn  would  be  there.  She,  in  these 
imaginings,  underwent  no  ageing,  though  Pee 
wee  himself  had  become  grown  up.  The  mag 
nificence  of  this  future  dwarfed  even  the 
promised  enjoyments  of  the  present,  but  left 
him  still  impatient  to  have  the  fulfillment  of 
Lampert's  promises  begin  at  once.  He  would 


108  Peewee 

have  been  content  with  the  smallest  of  the  things 
—  the  roller  skates. 

The  elder  woman  moved  about  household 
affairs;  Lampert  had  seated  himself  with  his 
forehead  in  his  hands.  He  was  planning,  Pee 
wee  decided,  the  best  way  of  getting  the  things. 
Peewee  was  beginning  to  adore  Lampert.  The 
younger  woman  washed  Peewee's  face  and  hands 
at  the  sink,  and  he  submitted  meekly  to  this 
indignity,  which  had  become  unimportant.  She 
spread  a  coverlet  and  pillow  on  the  floor  in  the 
inner  room. 

'  You  sleep  in  there,"  she  directed. 

He  judged  that  she  thought  it  time  for  him 
to  go  to  bed ;  it  was  unusually  early  for  him,  but 
he  lay  down  obediently.  It  was  useless,  for 
thought  prevented  him  from  sleeping.  Would 
the  fulfillment  of  Lampert's  promises  begin 
to-morrow?  Would  he  have  to  wait  longer  than 
that?  The  morning  might  bring  the  skates  and 
bicycle.  He  heard  the  two  women  come  in  and 
go  to  bed;  he  heard  Lampert  go  to  bed  upon 
the  couch.  It  was  plain,  therefore,  that  the 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  109 

morning  was  the  earliest  anything  could  be 
expected. 

Peewee  awoke  at  daylight,  but  lay  still  until 
he  heard  the  others  getting  up.  The  younger 
woman  went  out  early  —  he  thought,  to  work. 
When,  later,  Lampert  went  out,  he  waited 
eagerly  for  his  return.  The  older  woman  idled 
about  the  slatternly  rooms  or  sat  still  doing 
nothing.  The  morning  passed.  When,  in  the 
afternoon,  Lampert  came  back,  he  did  not  bring 
anything.  Peewee,  disappointed,  wanted  to 
inquire,  but  decided  nothing  would  be  gained  by 
questions.  The  woman  went  out  to  do  her  mar 
keting,  and  it  drew  toward  four  o'clock. 

Suddenly  Lampert  sprang  up  and  listened. 
Someone  had  asked  a  question  in  the  court  and 
the  voice,  though  not  the  words,  echoed  by  the 
enclosing  walls,  stirred  Peewee  queerly  but  in 
definitely.  It  appeared  also  to  have  stirred 
Lampert.  He  went  to  the  window  and  looked 
out  and  then  spun  quickly  around. 

"  You  get  in  there !  "  he  ordered  roughly. 

Peewee  sped  into  the  smaller  room.    Lampert 


HO  Peewee 

came  and  closed  the  door  upon  him.  Whoever 
had  spoken  in  the  court  —  it  must  be  that  per 
son,  he  thought  —  was  coming  up  the  stairs. 
He  heard  Lampert  open  and  close  the  outer 
door;  then,  as  the  voice  he  had  heard  spoke 
again,  still  unintelligibly  but  now  in  the  next 
room,  his  flesh  prickled.  Was  the  man  who  had 
come  in  his  father?  The  timbre  of  the  voice 
seemed  to  tell  him  that,  but  he  could  not  be 
certain. 

He  waited,  listening.  The  voice  spoke  again 
and  seemed  to  be  demanding  something.  Lam- 
pert  replied,  collectedly  and  harshly.  Peewee 
shook  with  anxiety.  What  was  going  on?  He 
crept  closer  to  the  door,  crouched  there  he  pres 
ently  could  begin  to  distinguish  words. 

"  I'm  letting  you  do  the  asking? "  It  was 
Lampert  who  had  said  this. 

He  could  not  make  out  the  words  of  the 
reply.  Then  he  again  heard  Lampert: 

"  Do  your  talking.     I  expected  that." 

'  You  come  to  my  house ;  you  ask  to  see  my 
wife." 

This  was  the  other  and  Peewee  could  hear 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  111 

plainly  now;  the  man  had  perhaps  changed 
his  position  in  the  room.  '  You  mouth  some 
indefinite  and  untrue  story  about  my  supporting 
a  child  somewhere.  You  pretend  not  to  know 
the  parentage  of  the  child  or  why  I  am 
interested  in  it." 

'  That  was  just  a  starter,  Markyn." 

Peewee's  body  drew  together  at  the  name. 
Coupled  with  the  voice  it  gave  him  certainty. 
This  was  his  father.  Had  someone  told  his 
father  he  was  there?  He  considered  that  there 
was  no  need  to  be  afraid,  as  Lampert  would 
protect  him. 

"  The  law  has  a  name  for  such  an  act  as  that, 
and  punishes  it."  His  father  had  said  that. 

"  I  ain't  worrying." 

"  If  you  had  come  to  me  — " 

"  It  didn't  look  good  to  me  to  go  to  you.  I 
wanted  you  to  come  to  me." 

"  I  comprehended  that." 

"  The  reason  I  went  to  her  was  so  you'd  have 
to  come  here." 

This  must  mean  that  Lampert  was  the  one  who 
had  told  Mrs.  Markvn  about  Peewee.  Peewee 


112  Peewee 

had  suspected  that,  but  now  he  was  not  willing 
to  believe  that  of  Lampert.  Still,  she  had  known 
the  name,  and  he  could  not  find  any  other  mean 
ing  for  the  words. 

"  That  is  the  reason  then  for  your  telephoning 
the  address  here  to  my  office  to-day." 

"  That's  right.  I  wanted  you  to  know  where 
I  was,  and  hurry  you." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Were  the  men 
speaking  too  low  for  him  to  hear?  Had  they 
left  the  room?  Apparently  neither  of  these  sup 
positions  were  true,  for  at  last  he  heard  his 
father's  tones  again,  but  now  they  were  queerly 
changed  and  flattened. 

"  How  much  is  it  that  you  want?  " 

"  To  keep  away  from  her,  you  mean?  " 

"Yes;  and  to  let  this  rest  in  every  way." 

"  That's  two  things,  Markyn ;  take  'em  one  at 
a  time.  How  much  do  I  want  for  promising  to 
keep  away  from  her?  Nothing." 

"  Then  I  don't  understand." 

"It's  plain,  ain't  it?" 

"  Still  —  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  don't  intend  to  go  to  her  again.     It  ain't 


A  Yista  of  Fortune  113 

necessary.  When  I  went  to  her  I  didn't  have 
the  boy." 

Peewee  stiffened.  The  boy?  That  was  himself. 
Lampert  had  told  his  father  he  was  here,  or  at 
least  had  told  enough  so  that  his  father  must 
suspect  that  he  was  here.  Why  had  he  told  him 
that?  He  was  no  longer  so  sure  of  Lampert's 
kindness. 

There  was  again  silence.  Peewee  thought 
that  Lampert  was  expecting  a  reply;  his  voice 
came  again  presently. 

"  See  that  you  get  me  right,"  it  said.  "  I  have 
the  boy." 

When  there  was  still  no  answer,  his  voice 
went  on  gloatingly.  "  What  was  the  second  of 
those  things  you  mentioned?  How  much  do  I 
want  to  let  this  rest?  I  want  whatever  ought  to 
be  coming  to  the  boy.  I  want  a  home  for  him 
and  for  his  grandparents  —  that's  me  and  Mrs. 
Lampert.  I  want  credit  at  the  grocery.  I  want 
a  car  for  him  and  me  and  her  to  go  driving  in." 

Peewee  comprehended.  It  was  not  Lampert 
who  would  give  him  the  things ;  it  was  his  father 
whom  Lampert  expected  would  give  them. 


peewee 

"  The  law  prescribes  the  allotment  to  the  child 
in  such  a  case  as  this."  His  father  was  speaking 
now.  "  But  I'm  willing  to  do  much  more  than 
it  decrees.  I'm  anxious  to  have  him  taken  care 
of,  Lampert." 

"  That's  twice  you've  spoken  of  law.  If 
there's  any  going  to  law  to  be  done,  I'll  be  the 
one  that  does  it.  You're  afraid  of  law.  Coin' 
to  law  in  this  thing  means  scandal.  Scandal 
don't  bother  me.  I'm  getting  old  —  too  old  to 
like  to  work.  The  best  job  I  ever  had  a  man 
named  Markyn  fired  me  from.  Before  that,  that 
same  man  took  my  daughter.  Her  boy  —  his 
boy,  too  —  looks  so  much  like  that  man  that 
anyone  can  see  that  he's  his  son.  Maybe  I'll 
have  to  show  people  the  boy.  How  do  I  know 
the  boy  wasn't  born  in  wedlock?  That's  for  the 
law  to  find  —  not  me.  I  didn't  know  so  much 
about  my  daughter  all  those  years !  I  ain't  afraid 
of  scandal.  But  how  about  its  worrying  you? 
How  about  its  worrying  Mrs.  Markyn? " 

"  I  am  willing  to  do  for  the  boy  anything 
that  is  within  reason,  Lampert." 

Peewee  straightened  excitedly.    He  perceived 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  115 

that  Lampert's  promises  were  going  to  be  ful 
filled.  His  father  and  Lampert  would  come  to 
an  agreement.  It  did  not  matter,  he  compre 
hended  now,  that  Lampert  might  have  let  his 
father  suspect  that  he  was  here.  It  might  even 
be  necessary  for  Lampert  to  open  the  door 
between  the  rooms  and  show  him  to  his  father, 
since  Lampert's  possession  of  him  was  the 
reason  for  the  agreement. 

"  Let's  talk  this  over."    This  was  his  father. 

'  You're  right,  we'll  talk  it  over.  What  we'll 
talk  over  is  how  much  you're  going  to  do.  I'm 
thinking  of  my  daughter.  She  lived  hard  and 
rough.  Her  mother  grieved  about  her;  she 
didn't  like  to  hear  folks  talk.  You  started  her 
that  way.  A  girl  like  that  had  ought  to  pick  up 
something  in  her  life  and  leave  a  bank-account 
for  her  old  father  and  her  mother.  If  she  don't 
what's  the  use  of  living  in  that  way?  I  always 
thought  she'd  leave  a  little  pile  for  us.  She 
didn't.  She  would  if  you'd  done  by  her  as 
you'd  ought.  What  you  didn't  do  then  for  her 
it's  right  that  you  ought  to  do  now  for  us  and 
for  the  boy." 


Peewee 

Peewee  began  to  comprehend.  Lampert 
might  not  expect  his  father  to  agree  to  all  that 
he  was  going  to  ask,  but  his  father  would  agree 
to  part  of  it.  Peewee  knew  the  ways  of  chican 
ery,  for  he  had  lived  among  people  who  prac 
ticed  them  and  talked  about  them,  and  he  had 
heard  people  say  that  they  would  like  to  get  a 
rich  man  into  the  position  which  his  father 
would  be  in.  When  Lampert  had  received  in 
the  beginning  as  much  as  he  could  get,  he  would 
begin  to  ask  for  more.  There  would  be  no  place 
where  his  father  would  find  it  possible  to  stop, 
until  perhaps  Peewee  even  owned  his  father's 
trucks,  as  Lampert  had  promised  him.  For  his 
father,  when  he  had  once  commenced  giving, 
could  not  escape  from  Lampert  except  by 
openly  acknowledging  Peewee,  and  he  would 
not  do  this  because  of  Mrs.  Markyn.  Peewee 
could  have  all  these  things.  Perhaps,  besides 
that,  he  could  still  see  Mrs.  Markyn  without  her 
knowing  who  he  was. 

But  he  felt,  he  discovered,  uncomfortable 
when  he  thought  of  seeing  Mrs.  Markyn.  It 
would  be  ridiculous,  he  had  comprehended  pre- 


A  Vista  of  Fortune  117 

cociously  when  she  had  spoken  to  him  about  how 
to  tell  what  it  was  right  to  do,  for  him  to  think 
in  that  connection  of  his  dissolute  mother;  but 
the  fact  that  she  had  told  him  that  made  him 
think  in  that  way  about  herself.  Suppose  he 
should  take  what  Lampert  would  get  for  him 
and  then,  in  some  way,  Mrs.  Markyn  should  find 
it  out.  Would  she  think  better  or  worse  of  a 
boy  who  had  been  getting  things  in  that  man 
ner?  It  did  not  require  reasoning  to  perceive 
that  she  would  think  less  of  the  boy.  The  fact 
was  instinctive  and  incontrovertible  that  she 
would  feel  sorry  that  she  had  kissed  that  boy 
and  that  she  would  unquestionably  hate  him. 

If  he  had  not  been  shut  up  in  that  room,  he 
decided,  he  would  simply  have  gone  away. 
Then,  if  she  found  this  out  he  could  tell  her 
that  he  had  not  had  anything  to  do  with  it. 

Peewee  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out. 
A  rope  used  for  drying  clothes  ran  through 
a  pulley  fastened  to  the  sash.  A  boy  —  even 
a  small  boy  —  by  standing  on  the  window  sill 
could  reach  the  rope,  and  need  merely  lean 
upon  it  and  he  could  step  from  the  window 


118  Peewee 

sill  to  the  stair-railing  below  it  and  a  little  to 
one  side. 

His  father's  voice,  then  Lampert's  voice,  were 
sounding  in  the  other  room,  as  he  climbed  out 
upon  the  sill.  He  balanced  himself  upon  the 
railing  and  jumped  down  upon  the  stair.  He 
choked  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  he  ran 
down  the  stairs,  across  the  court  and  out  into  the 
street.  If  he  could  have  had  just  one  of  all 
those  things  —  perhaps  the  skates  —  it  would 
not,  he  thought,  have  been  so  hard.  He  had 
never  had  anything  like  that  but  he  had  seen 
other  boys  have  them.  After  a  moment  he 
blinked  the  tears  away  and  began  to  look  from 
side  to  side  to  see  whether  anything  interesting 
was  happening  in  the  street. 


Chapter  Eight 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  BIG  HOUSE 

Peewee's  determination  to  avoid  his  father  had 
become  an  emotion  very  much  like  being  afraid. 
He  did  not  like  to  think  what  his  father  would  do, 
if  he  caught  him,  to  a  child  whose  existence  com 
pelled  him  to  pay  blackmail  and  threatened  such 
unhappiness  to  his  wife.  What  would  Lampert 
do  to  a  boy  who  by  running  away  had  interfered 
with  his  getting  an  easy  life  without  doing  any 
work?  Peewee's  imagination  shrank  from  pic 
turing  these  things.  To  avoid  rediscovery  by 
Lampert  he  gave  up  selling  flowers. 

He  realized  that  he  did  not  know  what  his 
father  looked  like.  Twice  he  had  heard  his 
father's  voice  and  would  recognize  that,  but  on 
neither  occasion  had  he  seen  him.  He  could 
not  be  sure  of  recognizing  him  by  his  likeness  to 

119 


120  Peewee 

himself.  Any  man  he  passed  who  had  dark  hair 
and  blue  eyes  might  be  his  father. 

These  considerations  put  a  limitation  on  the 
streets  he  frequented.  He  did  not  want  to  go 
to  the  North  Side,  where  his  father  lived,  or  to 
Madison  Street,  where  boys  knew  him  and 
where  the  agents  of  his  father  would  probably 
be  watching  for  him,  or  to  the  South  Side  where 
Lampert  was.  He  stayed  on  the  West  Side,  but 
this  was  where  representatives  of  the  Juvenile 
Court  were  most  likely  to  apprehend  him,  and 
he  suspected  that  his  father  and  Lampert  would 
be  watching  the  Juvenile  Court. 

His  daily  expenditures  for  living  were  not 
quite  ten  cents.  He  could,  by  strict  economy, 
reduce  this  slightly,  but  reduction  of  expendi 
tures  did  not  solve  the  problem,  since  he  had  no 
money  coming  in.  Mrs.  Markyn,  he  knew, 
would  have  given  him  something  to  eat,  but  he 
did  not  know  whether  Lampert  had  not  told  her 
more  about  him,  and  he  was  determined  not  to 
see  her  if  that  was  so.  When  his  money 
was  gone,  he  began  to  spend  long  periods  outside 
of  bakery  windows  looking  at  the  food,  and  to 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House       121 

haunt  the  alleys  next  to  factories  where  the  em 
ployees  ate  their  lunch,  and  construction  jobs  at 
the  hour  when  the  laborers  opened  their  tin 
pails.  He  found,  in  default  of  other  place  to 
sleep,  a  nightly  shelter  under  a  tarpaulin  spread 
over  bags  of  cement  where  the  new  Market 
Street  bridge  was  being  built. 

The  day  was  damp  with  a  mist  off  the  lake; 
the  hour  was  noon;  the  laborers  engaged  upon 
the  bridge  had  stopped  work  for  lunch.  Seated 
inconspiciously  upon  a  pile  of  iron,  Peewee 
watched  the  man  nearest  him  devouring  a  huge 
chunk  of  bread.  Some  of  the  bread,  it  was  in- 
contestible,  was  going  to  be  left.  Peewee  had 
considered  asking  in  advance  for  this  prospect 
ive  remainder.  He  had  decided  against  that  as 
likely  to  arouse  opposition.  The  more  effective 
way,  he  had  decided,  was  merely  to  sit  close  by 
and  watch. 

Assured  finally  that  the  man  had  eaten  all 
he  could,  he  moved  to  attract  attention.  The 
man  looked  at  him.  Having  given  him  this 
long,  reflective  look,  the  man's  gaze  returned 
with  satiety  to  the  bread  and  he  threw  it  into 


122  Peewee 

the  river.  Peewee  sighed  deeply  and  stood  up 
to  find  himself  confronted  by  a  larger  boy. 

"  Hungry  kid?  "  the  boy  inquired. 

The  question  wrung  a  forced  reply.    "  Sure." 

"  I  know  where  we  can  eat." 

Peewee  doubtfully  surveyed  the  boy.  He 
could  not,  he  decided,  be  an  emissary  of  his 
father  or  of  Lampert.  "All  right,"  he  said. 

He  followed  as  the  boy  crossed  the  railroad 
tracks  to  Kinzie  Street  and  there  turned  east. 
They  were,  it  seemed  likely,  headed  toward  a 
neighborhood  where  he  would  have  preferred  not 
to  go ;  his  father  lived  to  north  and  east  of  them. 
But  the  boy's  indifference  as  to  whether  Peewee 
followed  him  or  not  appeared  additional  testi 
mony  that  he  could  not  have  anything  to  do 
with  Peewee's  father.  Having  traveled  a  half- 
dozen  blocks  east  on  Kinzie  Street,  they  turned 
north  on  Rush. 

Peewee  looked  inquiringly  at  the  numerous 
small  restaurants  on  this  street,  but  he  compre 
hended  that  if  any  of  these  had  been  their  des 
tination  they  would  have  been  traveling  in  the 
alleys;  he  was  not  welcome  at  restaurant  front 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House      123 

doors.  When  they  had  gone  a  full  mile  north, 
past  the  point  where  Rush  Street  merged  into 
State,  the  boy  again  turned  east  and  north,  and 
Peewee  began  to  study  him  with  disturbance. 
They  were  near  his  father's  house,  on  a  street 
of  fine  houses,  which  he  spelled  out  was  "  Astor 
Street."  The  inhabitants  of  these  houses,  he  felt 
sure,  would  not  extend  any  courtesies  to  a  small 
and  very  dirty  person  like  himself.  Yet  the  boy 
could  not  be  merely  taking  him  through  this 
neighborhood,  bordered  within  sight  ahead  of 
them  by  Lincoln  Park.  He  followed  the  boy 
doubtfully  through  a  narrow  passage  between 
two  of  the  houses,  and  emerged  behind  another 
dwelling  which,  his  immense  experience  of  the 
backs  of  houses  and  of  areaways  and  yards 
assured  him,  must  face  upon  the  Lake  Shore 
Drive.  He  could  not  remember  ever  having 
seen  a  larger  house. 

He  halted  suspiciously  to  observe  the  boy. 
To  his  amazement,  the  boy  pushed  open  a  base 
ment  door,  and  Peewee,  bewildered  by  his 
guide's  temerity,  followed  him  in  and  looked 
curiously  around  a  large,  square  hall.  The  hall 


124  peewee 

he  saw,  connected  with  rooms  for  servants'  uses 
and  with  a  labyrinth  of  passages  and  stairs.  A 
very  old  colored  man,  dressed  in  a  dark  green 
suit  with  peculiarly  obvious  buttons,  came  to  one 
of  the  doors  at  which  the  boy  had  knocked,  lis 
tened  to  something  said  to  him  by  the  boy,  and 
looked  inquiringly  at  Peewee. 

'  You  ah  shuah,"  the  old  man  asked  quaver- 
ingly,  "  dat  dis  am  de  right  boy? " 

The  boy  answered  something  which  Peewee 
could  not  hear.  The  old  man,  leaving  the  door 
open,  shufflled  back  into  the  room  and  got  some 
money  and  gave  it  to  the  boy. 

Peewee  darted  toward  the  door,  but  he  had 
not  got  half  way  across  the  hall  when  he  felt 
the  boy  clutch  him  from  behind.  He  at  once 
stood  still;  there  was  no  hope  in  struggling  with 
the  larger  boy.  He  allowed  his  captor  to  lead 
him  back  to  the  old  man,  who  put  him  into  the 
room  and  turned  the  key  upon  him. 

He  panted  as  he  clung  for  support  against 
the  door;  he  had  forgotten  he  was  hungry.  He 
was  caught,  he  felt  certain,  by  his  father.  The 
trembling  in  his  legs  appeared  to  denote  that  he 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House      125 

was  in  danger  of  feeling  frightened,  and  he 
went  to  a  chair  and  sat  down.  He  could  hear 
nothing  except  the  ticking  of  a  clock.  He  must 
have  been  here  fully  half  an  hour  when  the 
key  turned  in  the  lock  and  the  old  servant  put 
in  his  head. 

"  Follow  me,  boy,"  he  directed. 

Peewee  got  up  belligerently  and  followed  him 
up  a  winding  stair  into  the  most  luxurious  hall 
that  he  had  ever  seen.  There  were  dark  pic 
tures  on  the  wall  which  seemed  very  old;  there 
were  hangings  of  dim-colored  cloths  into  which 
figures  of  mounted  men  fighting  with  swords 
had  been  woven.  The  negro  led  him  across  the 
hall  to  a  room  with  books  about  its  walls  —  a 
library  more  luxurious  even  than  the  hall,  with 
spindling  reading-lamps  of  bronze  and  great 
padded  chairs  and  couches.  He  hung  back, 
recognizing  that  whoever  he  was  being  taken 
to  must  be  in  that  room,  and  his  heart  stopped 
as  the  servant  pushed  him  in,  for  the  person 
awaiting  him  was  Mrs.  Markyn. 

She  flushed  eagerly  at  sight  of  him  and  seemed 
to  check  herself.  Her  first  interest  in  him, 


126  Peewee 

caused  merely  by  his  interest  in  her,  had  been 
increased  by  her  anxiety  when  she  had  recog 
nized  his  likeness  to  his  father.  It  had  become 
still  deeper  and  now  more  definite;  he  did  not 
realize  this,  but  her  manner  terrified  him  with 
suspicion  that  she  certainly  now  knew  who  he 
was.  She  had  her  hat  on,  he  noted,  and  the  kind 
of  dress  which  women  wear  upon  the  street;  she 
had  come  then  from  outside,  and  she  was  breath 
ing  quickly  as  though  she  had  come  on  foot.  He 
recalled  the  half  hour  he  had  waited  in  the  room 
below.  Had  he  been  kept  there  while  she  had 
been  sent  for? 

"  That  is  all,  Burtin,"  she  said  to  the  servant. 

He  drew  back  from  her,  but  she  came  toward 
him  impulsively,  when  the  servant  had  gone  out, 
and  took  his  small,  dirty  hands  and  seated  herself 
holding  him  in  front  of  her. 

"  Where  have  you  been? "  she  asked,  looking 
eagerly  in  his  eyes. 

He  looked  up  at  her  without  answer.  The 
feelings  she  excited  in  him  were  deepened  by 
his  anxiety  as  to  how  much  she  knew.  She  drew 
him  against  her  knee.  A  faint  sweetness  came 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House      127 

from  her  as  though  her  clothes  were  kept  where 
there  was  a  pleasant  smell. 

"  It  has  been  a  long  time,"  she  said,  "weeks. 
You  didn't  come  where  I  used  to  see  you." 

He  shuffled  one  foot  upon  the  other  and 
fixed  his  eyes  upon  her  nervously. 

"  Was  that  because  you  hadn't  told  me  the 
truth  about  yourself? " 

He  seized  this  as  an  excuse.     "  Yes'm." 

"  Why  did  you  tell  me  what  you  did? " 

He  hung  his  head,  not  finding  any  plausible 
answer  to  this. 

"  You  aren't  afraid  of  me?  " 

"  No'm." 

"  Then  why  was  it?  You  told  me  what  you 
said  was  your  name,"  she  urged,  "and  where 
you  lived.  I  thought  perhaps  there  was  some 
thing  I  could  do  for  you.  I  went  there  to  find 
out  and  I  found  there  was  no  family  of  that 


name." 


"  Yes'm,"  he  admitted.  It  was  not  safe  to 
try  to  lie. 

"  The  boys  at  the  children's  bathing  beach 
knew  you  by  sight  —  they'd  seen  me  talking 


128  Peewee 

with  you.  I  told  them  I  would  pay  any  boy 
who  brought  you  here." 

Why  here?  he  wondered.  What  was  this 
place? 

"Was  any  of  what  you  told  me  true?"  she 
questioned. 

"  No'm." 

"  Then  why  did  you  teU  it  to  me?  " 

He  swallowed.  In  the  doubt  he  felt  his  wide 
experience  with  workers  of  charity  and  justice 
had  taught  him  that  the  safest  method  was 
pathos.  "  I  didn't  want  to  say  I  didn't  know," 
he  answered  mournfully. 

"  You  mean  you  haven't  any  family." 

"  Yes'm." 

"And  you  were  ashamed  to  tell  me  that? " 

"  Yes'm."  He  seized  eagerly  this  motive 
which  she  had  supplied  him;  she  could  not  know, 
he  understood,  that  he  had  been  glad  he  had  no 
family. 

"  What  is  your  real  name?  " 

"  Peewee." 

"  You  haven't  any  other  name  than  that?  " 

"  No'm." 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House       129 

'  You  mean,  I  think,  that  you  don't  know 
what  your  name  ought  to  be.  Is  that  it? " 

"  Yes'm." 

'You  don't  know  who  your  mother  is? " 

If  she  asked  that,  she  herself  did  not  know. 
The  time  to  lie  had  come.  "  No'm." 

"Or  your  father?" 

"  No'm."  He  watched  to  see  what  the  effect 
of  this  would  be  upon  her.  She  released  him 
and  stood  up.  Her  full  lip  trembled  and  she 
caught  it  between  her  teeth.  "  I  thought  that," 
she  whispered  to  herself.  "  Oh,  that  is  what  I 
thought!" 

He  studied  her  perplexedly.  If  she  knew 
this  about  him,  why  did  not  his  likeness  to  his 
father  tell  her  all?  She  stooped  and  put  her 
arms  around  him. 

"Do  you  know  why  I  had  you  brought  here?  " 
she  inquired. 

"  To  ask  me." 

"  The  things  that  I  have  asked  you?  Yes. 
But  it  wasn't  only  that.  I'm  not  going  to  let 
you  go  away  again.  There's  someone  here  who's 
promised  to  take  care  of  you." 


130  Peewee 

He  stared  about  wonderingly.  This  fine 
house  plainly  could  not  be  an  institution. 

"  I'm  going  to  take  you  to  him." 

The  person  was  a  man  then.  He  speculated 
nervously  on  this  as  she  led  him  across  the  hall 
to  a  doorway  hung  with  curtains. 

'  You  mustn't  be  afraid  of  him,"  she  said. 
"  He  frightens  people  sometimes,  but  he  will  be 
kind  to  you.  He  was  once  a  boy  upon  the 
streets  and  without  friends  himself." 

"  I  don't  get  afraid,"  he  returned  to  her. 

She  drew  the  curtains  aside  and  pushed  him 
gently  in  and  went  in  with  him. 

"  Here  is  the  boy,"  he  heard  her  say. 

He  looked  about.  It  was  a  small,  rich  room 
where  a  wood  fire  was  burning  on  the  hearth, 
but  his  gaze  had  appreciated  no  more  than  this 
when  it  stopped  with  a  jerk  upon  the  only 
occupant.  A  huge  old  man  sat  by  the  fireside 
in  a  great  arm  chair.  His  age,  to  Peewee, 
seemed  great.  His  cold,  fiercely  direct  gray 
eyes  were  fixed  on  the  boy  intently;  his  big,  im 
perious  mouth  and  square,  projecting  chin  were 
firmly  set;  his  huge  hands  grasped  the  elbows 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House       131 

of  his  chair,  as  if  even  his  resting  had  a  sort  of 
violence  in  it. 

His  expression,  as  he  studied  Peewee,  changed 
from  mere  attention  into  startled  surprise. 

"  Come  here,"  he  ordered  harshly. 

He  put  his  immense  hand  under  Peewee's 
chin,  as  Mrs.  Markyn  pushed  him  forward  to 
him,  and  turned  up  his  face  to  look  at  it.  Then 
he  looked  as  if  in  amazement  at  Mrs.  Markyn. 
She  met  his  look  courageously,  but  flushed  and 
bent  over  Peewee  as  though  to  hide  her  em 
barrassment. 

There  was,  Peewee  perceived,  a  mystery  here. 
Mrs.  Markyn's  embarrassment  perplexed  him. 
Had  the  old  man  recognized  his  likeness  to  his 
father?  If  he  had  done  that  and  if  Mrs.  Markyn 
also  recognized  it,  she  ought  to  push  him  away 
from  her,  and  hate  him,  and  burst  into  tears  per 
haps,  over  the  destruction  of  her  happiness.  She 
did  not,  it  was  true,  look  happy;  but  neither  did 
she  look  like  a  person  whose  life  had  been  reduced 
to  ruin. 

The  impossibility  of  accounting  for  all  this 
confused  him. 


132  peewee 

"  You'll  stay  here  with  him?  "  she  asked. 

'  Yes'm,"  he  answered  promptly. 

:<  There's  no  one  else  here,"  she  said.  "  He 
lives  all  alone." 

He  did  not  need  this  assurance.  He  sus 
pected  from  the  old  man's  manner  to  her  that 
she  came  frequently  to  this  house.  Now  that 
her  suspicions  of  his  identity  did  not  produce 
the  effect  he  had  expected  on  her,  he  would  have 
stayed  anywhere  with  anybody,  where  there  was 
a  chance  of  seeing  her. 

He  stared  after  her  in  utter  absorption  as  she 
went  away.  He  heard  a  bell  ring  somewhere 
and  perceived  that  it  was  the  old  man  who  had 
rung  it  and  that  it  caused  a  servant  to  appear. 

"  Get  Burtin,"  the  man  directed  to  the  ser 
vant,  "and  take  him  and  fix  him  up." 

The  servant  went  away  and  returned  after  a 
moment  with  the  negro.  Peewee  went  with 
them  to  the  second  floor.  He  did  not  resist,  as 
in  a  pretty  bedroom  the  negro  began  to  undress 
him  and  the  other  man  turned  on  the  water  in  a 
tub.  They  lifted  him  and  set  him  in  the  bath.  As 
they  dried  him  and  wrapped  him  in  a  blanket, 


The  Man  of  the  Big  House       133 

the  negro  looked  at  his  small,  bruised  body  with 
interest.  The  inspection  seemed  to  convey  some 
idea  to  him.  He  spoke  to  the  other  servant,  who 
went  away  and  returned  with  a  tray  holding 
preserves,  bread  and  tea,  which  was  almost  milk. 
Peewee  sat  with  the  blanket  wrapped  about  him, 
and  the  servant  stood  by  to  hand  him  what  he 
wanted.  He  ate  ravenously,  but  it  interfered  a 
little  with  his  eating  to  keep  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  man. 

The  negro,  who  had  left  the  room,  came  back 
bringing  several  small  suits  of  clothes  of  varying 
sizes.  Peewee  thrilled  expectantly.  The  man 
held  the  clothes  against  him  to  find  out  which 
size  was  right,  and  the  smallest  nearly  fitted. 
They  put  underclothing  on  him;  he  had  not  had 
underclothes  since  his  last  confinement  in  a  home 
for  boys.  He  held  out  his  feet  for  the  stock 
ings  and  the  shoes,  and  they  put  his  legs  into 
knickerbockers  and  his  arms  into  a  shirt  with  a 
wide  collar. 

He  had  difficulty  in  believing  that  the  boy  he 
could  see  in  the  mirror  was  himself.  But  when 
he  put  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  new 


134  peewee 

clothes  the  boy  in  the  mirror  put  his  in  too,  and 
when  he  took  them  out  the  other  boy  did  the 
same. 

"  Dis  am  to  be  youah  room,"  the  negro  told 
him. 

His  heart  beat  fast  in  his  amazement,  and  he 
looked  about  the  room  with  wide  opened  eyes. 

"  Is  thah  anything  else  dat  you-all  requiah?" 
the  negro  asked  him. 

He  could  not  find  any  answer  to  this,  and  he 
followed  the  servants  in  a  daze  to  the  door  and 
looked  after  them  as  they  went  away. 


Chapter  Nine 
YOUTH  AND  AGE  MATCH  WITS 

Peewee  never  had  known  any  room  which 
anyone  had  called  his,  and  he  had  never  slept 
anywhere  indoors  except  where  numbers  of 
other  people  were  sleeping,  or  had  anything 
of  his  own  except  those  small  objects  which  boys 
acquire  and  carry  in  their  pockets.  To  be  left 
alone  in  the  room  gave  him  a  feeling  of  posses 
sion  which  he  had  never  had  before,  even  though 
he  did  not  fully  accept  the  assurance  that  it  was 
his.  But  he  would  have  been  more  interested 
in  the  room  if  he  had  not  been  so  much  interested 
in  the  old  man. 

If  the  old  man  was  the  only  person  besides 
servants  in  the  house,  and  had  power  to  give 
Peewee  a  room  in  it,  it  appeared  evident  that  the 
old  man  owned  the  house.  It  seemed  an  im 
mense  house  for  one  man.  Its  front  windows 

135 


136  Peewee 

looked  across  the  Drive  and  out  upon  the  lake 
where  white-tipped  waves  were  chasing  each 
other  against  the  esplanade;  its  rear  windows, 
he  knew,  having  come  in  that  way,  looked  only 
at  the  backs  of  other  houses.  Four  blocks  to 
north  of  it  and  three  to  west,  as  nearly  as  he 
could  figure,  was  his  father's  house,  which  had 
amazed  him  by  its  luxury  until  he  had  seen 
this  one. 

He  went  from  room  to  room  on  the  second 
floor,  looking  into  them  and  examining  excit 
edly  the  beautiful  things  he  found.  The  room 
which  pleased  him  most  was  at  the  front  of  the 
house  and  apparently  was  a  woman's  room.  Its 
furnishings  were  all  exquisitely  delicate,  and 
there  were  articles  monogrammed  in  fine  tracery 
upon  the  dresser,  and  several  small  portraits  in 
gold  frames.  One  was  of  a  woman  whom  he 
recognized ;  she  was  the  one  whose  picture  he  had 
seen  with  Mrs.  Markyn's  at  the  newspaper  office. 
What  had  her  name  been?  Mrs.  Arthur  Cord. 
Another  was  of  a  man  and  his  pulse  quickened 
as  he  looked  at  it.  He  picked  it  up  and  held  it 
so  that  he  could  see  himself  in  the  mirror  while 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     137 

he  looked  at  it.  He  and  the  man  had  the  same 
distinctive,  regular  features  and  the  same  black 
hair,  which  grew  in  the  same  way  upon  their 
necks  and  temples.  Was  it  his  father?  The 
man  was  handsome,  but  he  had  not  the  strong, 
determined  look  of  the  fierce  old  man  down 
stairs. 

After  examining  these  things,  Peewee  went 
downstairs  and  looked  in  at  the  old  man  from  the 
hall. 

The  old  man  showed  no  resentment  at  this 
inspection,  and,  after  hestating,  Peewee  went  into 
the  room  so  that  he  could  see  him  better.  The 
old  man  returned  his  survey  curiously. 

"  Had  a  bad  time  to  get  along? "  he  asked 
with  interest. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Peewee  admitted. 

"  Not  much  to  eat  lately?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  You  look  it.  It's  a  hard  town  and  you  have 
to  be  hard  yourself  to  beat  it.  Very  different 
town  from  when  I  came  here.  Bigger  and 
harder.  I  was  ten  then,  but  I'd  been  two  years 
alone  in  Buffalo.  Ran  away  from  home  when 


138  Peewee 

I  was  eight.  I'd  saved  some  money  even  then. 
Have  you? " 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  replied. 

"  Time  to  begin.  Save  your  money  and  put 
it  out  to  work  for  you;  then  you  don't  have  to 
work  yourself.  That's  one  rule.  Another  is 
don't  let  people  deceive  you.  Did  the  boy  that 
brought  you  here  lie  to  you? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  What  did  you  do  to  him? " 

"  Nothing." 

"  Know  what  to  do  when  a  boy  lies  to  you? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Hit  him  in  the  eye." 

Peewee  regarded  him  reflectively.  It  was 
probable  the  old  man  did  not  know  that  the 
other  boy  had  been  larger  than  himself,  but  the 
subject  interested  him. 

"  People  don't  care  what  happens  to  you,  do 
they?  "  the  old  man  asked. 

Peewee  considered;  very  few  people,  indeed, 
had  ever  cared.  "  No,  sir,"  he  agreed. 

"  You  care  what  happens  to  them? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     139 

:<  Why  should  you,  if  they  don't  care  about 
you?  Know  how  they  do  about  that  on  the 
Board  of  Trade?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  They  don't  care  what  happens  to  the  other 
fellow.  I've  known  of  many  a  man  sitting  in  his 
office  —  broke ;  don't  know  how  to  pay  his  rent ; 
don't  know  how  to  feed  his  wife  and  kids ;  thinks 
he'll  kill  himself.  On  the  Floor  they  throw  up 
their  hats;  slap  each  other  on  the  back;  all  join 
hands  and  dance  around  because  they've  broke 
him.  Understand?" 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  Understand  about  the  boys,  though,  don't 
you?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Who  was  the  old  man?  He  looked,  Peewee 
thought,  as  though  he  too  might  be  a  "  builder 
of  Chicago."  He  had  at  least  built  this  house, 
or  someone  had  built  it  for  him.  It  occurred  to 
Peewee  that  he  might  be  the  first  of  the  Jeffrey 
Markvns,  the  one  who  had  no  number  to  his 

•/  7 

name.     His  age  made  this  appear  likely,  and 
his  talk  about  the  Board  of  Trade. 


140  Peewee 

There  were,  however,  contrary  considerations. 
The  spoon  with  which  Peewee  had  eaten  his  pre 
serves  and  the  knife  with  which  the  servant  had 
spread  the  butter  had  been  marked  with  the 
letter  "  B."  There  had  been  "  B  "  in  the  lace 
coverlets  upon  the  beds  and  on  the  back  of  the 
toilet  articles.  Peewee  started  to  ask  the  man 
his  name,  but  when  he  saw  the  cold,  hard  eyes 
staring  at  him  he  was  afraid.  He  backed  to  the 
door  and,  when  he  felt  the  opening  behind  him, 
backed  out  through  it. 

He  halted  in  the  hall,  considering.  Would 
the  servants  tell  him  who  the  man  was  if  he 
asked?  Would  the  man's  name  be  on  his  front 
door?  As  he  moved  toward  the  door  to  open  it 
and  look,  he  saw  upon  his  right  the  library  with 
its  shelves  of  books.  In  schools,  he  recalled, 
boys  wrote  their  names  in  their  books.  Perhaps 
the  old  man  had  written  his  name  in  his.  There 
seemed  a  great  many  of  them  for  him  to  have 
written  his  name  in.  He  went  in  and  opened 
one  of  the  books,  which  were  all  new,  as  though 
no  one  had  ever  read  them,  and  he  found  a 
picture  pasted  in  the  front  with  letters  under- 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     141 

neath.  "  Ex  Libris,"  he  spelled  out.  This,  he 
decided,  had  no  meaning,  but  there  was  a  name 
below.  He  spelled  it:  "  Matthew  Beman." 

The  old  man,  it  was  clear,  was  Mrs.  Markyn's 
grandfather,  the  one  who  made  the  feud  — 
whatever  that  might  be  —  with  the  first  Jeffrey 
Markyn  about  a  "corner."  But  Peewee  forgot 
this  temporarily  in  thinking  excitedly  how  often 
Mrs.  Markyn  must  come  to  her  grandfather's 
house.  What  would  she  think  of  him  when  she 
saw  him  in  his  new  clothes  and  with  shoes  which 
had  no  holes  in  them?  She  might  hardly  know 
him.  He  went  to  the  window  to  look  out  along 
the  street  in  the  direction  which  he  thought  that 
she  might  come,  but  she  did  not  come  that  day. 

At  dark  the  negro,  Burtin,  came  and  got  him 
and  took  him  downstairs  to  eat.  He  ate  at  a 
table  with  the  servants,  sitting  next  to  Burtin, 
and  regarding  the  old  colored  man  reflectively 
between  his  bites. 

"  What  is  a  corner? "  he  inquired  at  last. 

The  negro  considered  in  surprise.  "  A  coh- 
neh?" 

"I  thought  you  knew  about  Mr.  Beman." 


142  Peewee 

"  Indeedy  yes,  Ah  does!" 

"  Didn't  Mr.  Beman  ever  make  a  corner?  " 

Burtin  appeared  to  comprehend.  "  Mistah 
Beman  he  done  made  many  cohnehs." 

"  He  made  the  Markyn-Beman  corner,"  Pee 
wee  observed. 

"  Dats  too  long  ago  for  you-all  to  know  about 
it  —  yeh,  dat's  long  ago." 

"  Then  tell  me  about  it." 

Burtin  seemed  to  consider  this  request  and  to 
decide  that  it  was  not  anything  he  need  refrain 
from  telling. 

"  Mistah  Beman  an'  Mistah  Mahkyn,  dey  wuz 
pahtnahs  —  dis  yer  Mistah  Mahkyn's  gran' 
fathah,"  he  asserted.  "  One  tahme  bef oh  dey  wuz 
reg'lah  pahtnahs,  dey  onct  boff  of  'em  wuz  buyin' 
oats.  Mistah  Mahkyn  he  comes  to  Mistah  Beman 
an'  he  says :  "  Oats  am  goin'  up ;  de  longah  we  hoi' 
ouah  oats,  de  highah  up  dey'll  go.  We-all  '11  hold 
ouahs  an*  when  dey  gits  so-high,  we-all  '11  sell 
ouahs,  but  not  bef  oh  dey  gits  so-high."  "  Aw 
right,"  says  Mistah  Beman.  But  Mistah  Mah 
kyn,  he  ups  an*  sells  his  oats  befoh  dey  gits  so- 
high,  and  never  said  nothin'  to  Mr.  Beman  'bout 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     143 

it,  'cause  he  thought  de  mahket  wouldn't  buy  so 
many  oats.  So  Mistah  Mahkyn,  he  made  money 
because  Mistah  Beman  held  his  oats,  but  his 
sellin'  made  dem  oats  go  down  and  Mistah  Be 
man,  he  didn'  make  nothin'.  You  undahstan'?  " 

Peewee  did  not  understand,  but  he  compre 
hended  that  if  he  admitted  that  he  might  not 
hear  anything  more.  "  Sure,"  he  prevaricated. 

"Den  long  tahme  afteh  —  yeahs  afteh  — 
Mistah  Beman  and  Mistah  Mahkyn  dey  comes  to 
be  pahtnahs.  But  Mistah  Beman,  he  didn't 
neber  fohgit  'bout  dem  oats;  he  remembahs  an' 
remembahs,  an'  remembahs.  An'  Mistah  Beman 
an'  Mistah  Mahkyn  dey  stahted  out  to  cohneh 
wheat.  Dey  done  bought  an'  bought  an'  bought 
till  Mistah  Mahkyn  he  done  thought  dey  had  all 
de  wheat  into  a  cohneh.  But  dey  wahn't  no  coh 
neh,  because  Mistah  Beman  he  wuz  sellin'  all  de 
tahme  he  wuz  buyin',  but  Mistah  Mahkyn  he 
didn'  know  dat.  So  in  de  end,  Mistah  Beman  had 
all  de  money  and  Mistah  Mahkyn,  he  wah  ruined. 

This  was  not  very  plain,  Peewee  thought,  but 
the  result  was  clear:  Mr.  Markyn  had  been 
"broke"  and  had  sat,  probably,  alone  in  his  of- 


144  Peewee 

fice  not  knowing  how  to  feed  his  wife  and  kids. 

"  Did  Mr.  Beman  throw  up  his  hat  upon  the 
floor?  "  he  asked. 

"  Ah  wouldn't  wondah.  'Dat's  like  what  you- 
all  done  to  me  about  dem  oats,'  he  said  to  Mistah 
Mahkyn;  and  afteh  dat  dey  never  spoke  again, 
and  de  two  famblies  didn't  till  Miss  Marion 
manned  Mistah  Waltah  Mahkyn." 

Peewee  knew  about  that. 

Burtin,  when  he  took  him  to  bed,  would  have 
helped  him  undress,  but  he  would  not  submit  to 
this  indignity.  He  recalled,  as  he  snuggled  into 
the  cool,  smooth  sheets,  in  the  pleasant  room, 
after  the  negro  had  left  him,  the  cement  bags 
among  which  he  had  slept  the  night  before,  but 
he  thought  with  more  excitement  about  Matthew 
Beman. 

Beman  had  been,  at  one  time,  no  different 
from  Peewee  himself,  and 'had  perhaps  at  some 
time  crept  in  under  a  tarpaulin  and  shifted  his 
feverish  body  through  the  night  among  cement 
bags.  He  had,  it  is  almost  certain,  slept  in 
cellars  and  had  eaten  unhealthy  food  from  his 
dirty  fingers  in  alleys  and  areaways,  and  had 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     145 

had  no  place  to  go  except  the  streets.  But  now 
Beman  had  this  wonderful  house  and  had  ser 
vants  to  get  him  everything  he  wanted.  He  had 
preserves  and  other  food,  and  good  clothes  and 
motor  cars,  and  knives  and  spoons  and  bed 
clothes  which  had  his  initial  on  them. 

Certain  doubts  had  occasionally  assailed  Pee- 
wee  as  to  whether,  when  he  was  grown  up,  he 
actually  would  be  able  to  do  all  the  things  he 
contemplated  —  to  have  a  house  larger  than  his 
father's  and  to  be  a  "city-builder"  like  Jeffrey, 
Second  —  but  the  fact  that  Beman  had  been  a 
street  boy  like  himself  had  silenced  all  these 
doubts.  Beman  had  begun  when  he  was  eight 
years  old,  he  had  told  Peewee,  to  save  money. 
Peewee  resolved  that  when  he  got  any  money 
again  he  would  save  it.  He  expanded  also  his 
ideas  of  the  house  that  he  would  have  so  that  it 
became  not  merely  larger  than  his  father's  but 
larger  even  than  Beman's.  He  would  have  a 
room  in  it  like  the  one  where  he  had  seen  the 
pictures,  but  finer  still,  if  that  was  possible,  and 
this  room  would  be  for  Mrs.  Markyn.  He  de 
cided  to  tell  her  of  these  plans. 


146  ,      Peewee 

He  dressed  hurriedly  in  the  morning,  so  as  to 
be  ready  to  tell  her  when  she  came,  and  after 
breakfast  he  sat  by  the  window  watching  for 
her,  but  she  did  not  come.  He  wandered  about 
the  house  and  looked  at  things,  and  several  times 
he  went  to  the  room  where  Beman  had  been  the 
day  before,  but  there  was  no  one  in  it. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Burtin  took  him  to  the 
library.  Beman  was  waiting  for  him  there. 

"  Come  here,"*Beman  commanded. 

Peewee  approached  uneasily. 

"  Can  you  read?  " 

"  I  can  spell." 

"  Spell  this  then  —  spell  it  out  loud." 

Peewee  took  the  written  slip  of  paper  which 
Beman  handed  him.  The  first  words  were  his 
mother's  name  —  Helen  Lampert.  "  Born  in 
Chicago,"  he  then  spelled  out,  "age  thirty,  never 
employed,  associate  of  various  men  in  Chicago, 
New  York  and  Seattle,  known  also  as  Helen 
Howse  and  Heloise  Labell,  of  late  frequenter 
of  West  Side  cafes." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  your  mother? "  Be 
man  inquired.  "  Not  much,  if  you're  wise." 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     147 

"  She's  dead,"  Peewee  offered  hopefully.  This 
appearance  of  hopefulness  concealed  an  immense 
anxiety.  Beman  had  not  known  who  Peewee 
was  on  the  day  before ;  now  he  knew  more  about 
him  than  Mrs.  Markyn  did. 

"  I  know  she's  dead,"  Beman  retorted.  "  You 
there  when  she  died? " 

e  Yes,  sir."  He  had  no  idea  how  much  Be 
man  knew,  and  he  was  afraid  to  lie. 

"Anybody  else  there?  " 

"  The  nurse." 

"No  one  else?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"Anybody  come  there  while  you  were  there?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"'Not  a  tall  men;  blue  eyes- — very  blue,  like 
yours;  black  hair  like  yours?  " 

"  No,  sir."  His  heart  constricted  anxiously. 
Beman,  it  appeared,  knew  who  his  father  was. 

"Sure  about  that?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Mother  did  not  tell  you  about  any  man?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  lied  desperately.  What 
ever  else  Beman  might  know,  he  could  not 


148  Peewee 

know  what  had  been  told  him  by  his  mother. 
They  had  been  quite  alone  when,  with  her  hot 
hands  covered  with  their  glistening  rings,  she 
clutched  him  down  against  her  and  held  him 
while  she  made  him  write  down  his  father's 
name. 

"  Don't  know  anything  about  this  then?  "  Be- 
man  held  out  to  him  a  second  paper;  this  one 
was  a  printed  clipping. 

"  '  Reward,'  "  Peewee  spelled  out.  "  Tor  in 
formation  as  to  the  whereabouts  of  H.  Seabury, 
approximately  eight  years  old,  formerly  inmate 
of  St.  Anthony's  Orphan  Asylum  and  the  fol 
lowing  boys'  homes/  '  There  was  then  a  list  of 
several  homes.  It  was  not  signed  with  a  name 
but  merely  "  Room  — ,  100  Washington  St." 

Peewee  looked  up  at  Beman  with  combative 
eyes.  He  suspected  that  Beman  might  be  in 
clined  to  claim  the  reward  that  was  being  of 
fered  for  him. 

"  Ever  see  that  ad.  before?  "  Beman  inquired. 

"  ISTo,  sir." 

"  Know  that  address?  " 

"  No,  sir." 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     149 

"Don't  know  of  any  lawyer  at  that  address? 
Lots  of  lawyers  in  that  building.  Might  be  one 
of  them,  you  know." 

It  was  exactly  that,  Peewee  felt  certain.  He 
watched  Beman's  eyes  and  they  showed  that 
Beman  knew  it  was  a  lawyer.  "  I  don't  know," 
he  replied. 

"Don't  know  who's  advertising,  you  mean?" 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  iterated  determinedly.  He 
had,  considering  his  youth,  a  disproportionate 
knowledge  of  lawyers;  they  had  apparently  no 
business  of  their  own,  therefore  they  were  forced 
to  occupy  their  time  with  other  people's  busi 
ness.  The  authorities  would  not  be  advertising 
for  Peewee  through  a  lawyer.  It  must  be,  then, 
either  Lampert  or  his  father  that  this  lawyer 
represented.  Peewee  hoped  that  it  was  not  his 
father.  He  was  more  unwilling  to  deal  with 
his  father  than  with  Lampert.  The  uneasiness 
which  made  him  almost  sure  that  it  was  his 
father,  provoked  a  dispiriting  anxiety.  It  ap 
peared  likely  that  Beman,  knowing  who  Peewee 
was  and  who  his  father  was,  would  deliver  Pee 
wee  over  to  his  father. 


150  peewec 

"All  right;  that's  all,"  Beman  asserted. 

Peewee  backed,  anxiously,  toward  the  door. 
"No;  wait!"  Beman  commanded.  "Sit  over 
there."  He  pressed  the  bell  and  waited  for  the 
servant.  When  the  man  appeared  he  gave  him 
some  instructions  which  Peewee  could  not  hear 
and  then  looked  at  his  watch.  These  signs 
seemed  to  indicate  that  Beman  was  expecting 
someone. 

Peewee,  from  the  chair  to  which  he  had  been 
assigned,  watched  the  old  man  apprehensively. 
Who  was  he  expecting?  Minutes  passed. 

Presently  the  doorbell  rang.  The  servant 
crossed  the  hall;  the  outer  door  opened  and 
closed.  The  servant  appeared  at  the  door  of 
the  library,  evidently  in  accordance  with  the 
instruction  she  had  received,  and  stood  aside  to 
let  the  visitor  enter. 

Peewee,  seeing  behind  the  servant  the  man 
whose  picture  he  had  looked  at  in  the  room  up 
stairs,  sidled  off  his  chair  in  preparation  for 
either  flight  or  battle.  The  man's  likeness  to 
himself  was  more  evident  in  his  person  than  it 
had  been  merely  in  the  picture.  Peewee's  throat 


Youth  and  Age  Match  Wits     151 

closed  up,  but  he  recollected  that  he  had  told 
Beman  that  he  did  not  know  his  father. 

"Come  in,  Markyn,"  Beman  invited. 

Markyn  stood  looking  from  the  door  and  not 
yet  seeing  Peewee. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  why  you  sent  for  me,"  he 
began. 

When  he  had  got  as  far  as  this,  he  suddenly 
perceived  Peewee.  His  gaze  quickened  with 
surprise,  then  inquiry.  His  lips  set  to  a  straight 
line;  he  whitened  and  then  flushed  suddenly  and 
angrily. 

"  Got  a  little  guest  here,"  Beman  explained. 
"  Name  H.  Seabury."  He  did  not  smile ;  his 
mouth  and  eyes  had  an  unpleasant  expression. 

"Come  here,  boy,"  he  directed.  Peewee  in 
spite  of  his  determination  to  refuse,  went  to  him. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Walter  Markyn,"  Beman  ob 
served.  He  was  watching  Markyn,  not  Peewee. 
"  Shake  hands  with  him." 

Peewee,  keeping  carefully  in  mind  that  he 
had  told  Beman  that  he  did  not  know  his  father, 
put  out  his  hand.  Walter  Markyn  turned  pale 
and  did  not  take  it. 


152  Peewee 

"  Suit  yourself,"  Beman  remarked.  Then  he 
looked  to  the  servant.  "All  right;  take  the  boy 
away,"  he  directed.  "  See  that  he  stays  up 
stairs." 

Peewee,  staring  at  them  determinedly  over  his 
shoulder,  went  to  the  servant,  who  led  him  into 
the  hall  and  to  the  stairs. 

"  You  heard  what  he  said,"  the  servant  in 
structed  him.  "  You're  to  stay  upstairs." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

He  went  upstairs  while  the  servant  stood 
watching  him.  His  worst  apprehensions,  he  per 
ceived,  had  been  confirmed.  Beman,  wanting 
to  protect  his  granddaughter,  was  going  to  turn 
Peewee  over  to  his  father,  and  they  were  con 
sulting  in  the  library  as  to  the  best  way  of  get 
ting  rid  of  him. 


Chapter  Ten 
A  DIFFICULT  SURRENDER 

When  Peewee  got  to  the  top  of  the  stairs,  he 
turned  and  looked  down.  All  that  he  saw  was 
the  disappearing  back  of  the  servant.  He 
waited.  After  he  could  no  longer  hear  the 
servant's  steps,  he  went  part  way  down  the 
stairs  and  listened.  Not  hearing  anything,  he 
went  on  all  the  way  down.  The  library  door 
had  been  closed.  He  put  his  ear  against  it 
and  then  could  hear  Beman's  voice,  high  pitched 
and  angry. 

"She  might  have  known  something  would 
happen  if  she  trusted  you!" 

Peewee  stiffened  with  surprise.  Beman  and 
his  father  were  not  then,  in  agreement.  Beman 
was  not  merely  turning  Peewee  over  to  his 
father.  What  was  he  doing?  Someone,  Peewee 
knew,  would  discover  him  if  he  stopped  to  listen 

153 


154  peewee 

outside  the  door  of  the  library,  but  there  was  a 
room  next  to  the  library  into  which  probably  no 
one  would  come.  Peewee  darted  into  that  room. 
Here,  too,  the  door  into  the  library  was  closed, 
and  he  went  to  it  and  lay  down  close  to  it  on 
the  floor. 

"  Go  back  further,"  he  heard  Beman  saying. 
"  Go  clear  back  —  back  to  the  wedding." 

"  It  goes  still  further  back  than  that." 

"Very  well;  but  wasn't  I  right?  The  little 
fool  was  bound  to  marry  you?  Now  the  thing 
works  out!  I  couldn't  tell  where  Jeff  Markyn's 
grandson  would  go  wrong,  but  I  knew  he 
wouldn't  go  straight. 

"  No.  You  merely  hated  my  family.  It 
isn't  the  man  who's  injured  that  never  forgives; 
it's  the  one  who  inflicts  the  injury." 

Peewee  grew  tense  with  perplexity.  What 
was  the  meaning  of  this  talk?  His  father  said 
something  which  Peewee  could  not  hear. 

"  She  came  here," —  this  was  Beman  speaking 
now  —  "  several  days  in  succession  and  sat  by 
my  front  window  where  she  could  look  out. 
She  was  watching,  I  discovered,  for  a  boy  she'd 


A  Difficult  Surrender  155 

taken  an  interest  in.  She'd  seen  him  on  the 
beach  here  nearly  every  day.  I  got  it  out  of  her 
she  meant  to  find  a  home  for  him  —  not  in  your 
house,  not  in  any  institution.  The  thing  looked 
queer  to  me,  and  I  said,  '  Bring  the  boy  here ; 
I'm  all  alone  in  this  big  house  and  it'll  be  good 
for  me.'  She  wouldn't  consent  at  first;  finally 
she  agreed  to  it." 

"  Because  you  made  her  think  that  she  could 
trust  you.  We  all  believed  you'd  buried  that 
old  family  feud  the  way  we  had." 

"  Not  with  you,  I  hadn't.  You  married  my 
granddaughter  in  spite  of  me;  the  boys  on  the 
Board  could  have  told  you  to  watch  out." 

Peewee's  heart  beat  fast.  He  recollected  the 
questions  that  Beman  had  asked  him.  Beman, 
it  was  beginning  to  appear,  had  already  known 
the  answer  to  those  questions.  Why  then  had  he 
asked  them?  Was  it  to  find  out  how  much 
Peewee  knew?  Peewee  had  denied  any  knowl 
edge  of  his  father.  So  Beman  had  showed 
him  to  his  father  and  at  once  sent  him  away. 
Why? 

Beman's  voice  was  again  going  on:     "  She 


156  peewee 

brought  the  boy  here  and  by  hek!  he  looked  as 
much  like  you  as  two  peas.  What  lawyer  would 
you  go  to,  I  wondered,  if  you  were  in  trouble? 
You'd  go,  I  had  no  doubt  at  all  to  Sallet.  I  put 
a  man  to  dig  in  Sallet's  office.  Sallet,  he  found, 
was  advertising  for  a  boy.  In  twenty- four 
hours  I  had  the  whole  blamed  thing.  I  had  the 
boy's  record  in  the  institutions;  I  had  the  moth 
er's  name.  Like  to  hear  it?  I  had  her  looked 
up  too.  I  was  almost  sure  what  all  this  meant. 
I  sent  for  you  to  come  over  here,  and  I  watched 
you  when  you  saw  the  boy.  That  made  me 
certain.  You're  no  fit  husband  for  Matt 
Beman's  granddaughter  —  coming  to  her 
straight  from  another  woman,  and  with  a  child 
running  the  streets  who  doesn't  know  his 
father!" 

"  I  never  knew  there  was  a  boy." 
'  What  does  your  knowing  matter?  " 

Peewee  heard  his  father's  voice  after  a  long 
interval.  "What  is  it  that  you  mean  to  do?" 

"I'm  going  to  take  her  back  —  away  from 
you.  This  house  is  lonesome.  I'm  old,  I  ain't 
dead  yet.  I'd  like  a  young  woman  —  my  grand- 


A  Difficult  Surrender  157 

daughter  —  around  as  well  as  anybody  would." 
Pee  wee  thrilled  delightedly.  Beman  was  not 
going  to  give  him  over  to  his  father;  he  was 
going  to  bring  Mrs.  Markyn  here.  It  was 
not  wholly  plain  how  Beman  was  going  to 
accomplish  this,  but  the  old  man's  power  was 
certain.  Peewee  would  see  Mrs.  Markyn  daily; 
they  might  possibly  eat  their  meals  together; 
she  would  come  perhaps  to  kiss  him  good-night. 
"  You've  considered  the  effect  of  this,  of 
course?"  This  was  his  father. 

'  You  mean  the  scandal?  It  am  t  necessary 
there  should  be  any  scandal.  I  don't  mind  gos 
sip  by  people  who  don't  know  what  they're 
talking  about." 

"  No;  I  mean  the  effect  of  this  on  her." 
"  Of  course  I  have.  I'll  get  my  effect.  She 
wouldn't  believe  any  story  against  you  merely 
by  itself,  and  you've  made  her  trust  you  so  that 
the  boy,  without  the  story,  isn't  enough  to  make 
her  suspect  you.  But  she'll  have  to  believe  the 
two  together,  and  by  the  Lord!  I've  got  'em 
both,  and  she'll  believe  because  you  won't  be 
able  to  deny." 


158  Peewee 

Peewee  chilled.  The  way  Mrs.  Markyn  was 
to  be  brought  here,  then,  was  by  telling  her  all 
about  himself.  He  was  no  longer  so  sure  what 
this  implied.  He  had  thought  when  he  had  been 
feeling  certain  that  she  suspected  his  relation  to 
his  father,  that  she  was  not  made  so  unhappy 
by  it  as  he  had  expected  her  to  be.  He  had  not 
been  able  to  understand  that.  Now  Beman  said 
plainly  that  she  did  not  yet  suspect.  If  that  was 
so,  why  had  she  brought  him  here?  But  he  felt 
that  Beman  knew.  Again  therefore  he  himself 
was  unable  to  comprehend. 

'  You  don't  understand,"  he  heard  his  father 
say.  "  Marion  still  has  perfect  faith  in  me. 
We'd  sworn  that  faith  to  one  another ;  she  asked 
me  if  I'd  kept  it,  and  I  —  God  knows  I  couldn't 
tell  her  about  this;  I'd  never  loved  anyone  but 
her.  I  lied  to  her !  " 

"  Of  course,  Jeff's  grandson  would." 

"  She  built  her  happiness  about  that  lie.  If 
I  —  I  beg  you  to  reconsider  this ;  I'm  not  think 
ing  of  myself.  I'm  thinking  about  her." 

Peewee  shivered  at  the  pain  in  his  father's 
voice;  its  tone  more  than  the  words  themselves 


A  Difficult  Surrender  159 

resolved  his  doubts.  There  was  no  doubt  of 
Mrs.  Markyn's  unhappiness  if  she  knew  about 
him;  she  would  grieve  inexpressibly.  Her  deso 
lation,  her  agony,  were  in  his  father's  voice. 

He  drew  swiftly  back  from  the  door.  A 
servant  had  gone  into  the  room  opposite  and 
switched  on  the  light.  Pee  wee  had  not  noticed 
that  it  had  grown  dusk;  the  servant  would  come 
to  this  room  next  perhaps.  He  darted  across 
the  hall  to  Beman's  den. 

He  sat  there  miserably.  It  was  clear  what 
was  going  on  now  in  the  library,  although  he 
could  no  longer  hear  even  the  voices.  His  father 
was  begging  Beman  to  change  his  intention. 
Would  he  succeed  in  doing  that?  Peewee  had 
the  feeling  that  his  father  was  not  the  kind  of 
person  who  could  change  any  determination  of 
that  obstinate  old  man. 

He  had  a  sense  of  amazement  of  what  was 
happening  to  his  father.  A  man  did  something 
wrong;  afterward  apparently  everything  and 
everybody  conspired  to  punish  him.  It  was  not 
perfectly  clear  to  Peewee  exactly  what  wrong 
his  father  had  done  with  regard  to  Helen  Lam- 


160  peewee 

pert,  but  there  was  no  doubt  at  all  of  the  com 
bination  of  forces  which  were  taking  vengeance 
for  it.  Lampert  had  learned  of  it,  and  had 
probably  made  his  father  give  him  money; 
Beman  had  heard  of  it  and  was  going  to  take  his 
wife  away  from  him.  Mrs.  Markyn  had  said 
that  a  boy  who  was  tempted  to  do  anything 
wrong  ought  to  think  first  how  it  would  make 
his  mother  feel.  It  appeared  clear  that  his 
father  in  the  matter  of  Helen  Lampert  had  not 
thought  enough  of  how  it  would  make  his 
mother  feel ;  if  he  had  he  would  not  have  been  in 
these  difficulties. 

The  door  of  the  library  opened  and  his  father 
passed  through  the  hall.  He  stumbled  a  little, 
as  though  his  gaze  fixed  itself  upon  objects 
without  actually  seeing  them.  Beman  came 
from  the  library  and  crossed  to  his  den.  He 
saw  Peewee  and  smiled  with  satisfaction. 

"  What  a  man  must  do,  boy,"  he  said  tri 
umphantly,  "  is  wait.  Sometime  his  time 
will  come." 

'  Yes,  sir,"  said  Peewee  unhappily. 

The  old  man's  victorious  manner  made  plain 


A  Difficult  Surrender  161 

what  the  result  of  the  interview  had  been;  his 
father  had  not  been  able  to  change  Beman. 
Beman  apparently  had  forgotten  that  he  had 
told  Peewee  to  stay  upstairs;  but  he  might  re 
member  it.  Peewee  moved  out  into  the  hall 
and  went  slowly  up  to  his  room. 

He  choked  at  the  room's  look  of  comfort. 
What  was  it  Beman  had  said,  "  She'll  believe 
because,  by  the  Lord!  I've  got  both  the  story 
and  the  boy."  He  perceived,  as  he  stood  in  the 
room,  the  boy  in  the  mirror  standing  in  the 
reflected  room  in  his  new  clothes. 

They  called  the  clothes  his  as  they  called  the 
room,  but  both  he  realized,  belonged  to  Beman. 
He  went  suddenly  to  the  drawer  into  which  the 
servant  had  tumbled  his  old  clothes,  and  choked 
again  as  he  saw  that  the  clothes  still  were  there. 
Then  he  began  to  take  off  his  new  clothes. 

He  folded  his  coat  and  shirt  carefully  and  put 
them  on  a  chair;  then  his  knickerbockers.  He 
unfastened  his  shoes;  then  he  hesitated,  and  re- 
fastened  them.  He  looked  a  long  time  at  them, 
but  finally  he  took  off  the  shoes  and  stockings. 
He  put  on  his  old  clothes  which  had  been  damp 


162  Peewee 

when  they  were  tossed  into  the  drawer  and  now 
smelled  mouldy  and  dirty.  His  eyes  filled  with 
tears  as  he  looked  about  the  room,  and  he  felt 
blindly  for  the  door,  and  blinked  the  tears  away 
and  looked  out.  The  hall  was  empty,  and  he 
went  noiselessly  down  the  stairs,  but  stopped 
half  way.  A  servant  passed  below  him  without 
noticing  him,  and  he  heard  Beman's  voice  speak 
ing  to  the  servant. 

He  stopped  still  and  considered.  There  was 
something  aggressively  forceful  in  Beman's 
voice  even  when  he  spoke  of  ordinary  things. 
He  had  been  intending  to  run  away  from 
Beman,  but  the  old  man's  tone  made  suddenly 
plain  to  him  the  futility  of  that.  He  had  run 
away  a  dozen  times  from  a  dozen  different  insti 
tutions.  They  had  always  caught  him,  although 
they  had  had  no  more  reason  for  searching  for 
him  than  the  mere  routine  transaction  of  their 
business.  They  would,  he  had  learned  fully, 
always  catch  him  in  the  end.  Beman,  who  had 
more  reason  for  catching  him  than  the  authori 
ties  had,  and  who  could  use  their  agents  besides 
others  of  his  own,  would  catch  him  too  if  he  was 


A  Difficult  Surrender  163 

upon  the  streets;  and  he  had,  he  realized,  no 
place  except  the  streets  to  go. 

He  went  on  down  the  stairs,  anxiously  con 
templating  these  possibilities.  He  opened  the 
great  front  door,  went  out,  noiselessly  reclosed 
it,  and  ran  down  the  steps.  He  went  north  till 
he  had  counted  four  blocks,  then,  very  slowly, 
west.  The  great,  square  house  he  was  approach 
ing  was  his  father's.  He  had  decided  what  to 
do.  He  would  tell  his  father  that  he  had  over 
heard  what  had  been  said  to  him  by  Beman,  and 
had  run  away  in  the  hope  that  this  would  pre 
vent  Beman  from  telling  Mrs.  Markyn.  That 
Pee  wee  did  not  want  Mrs.  Markyn  to  be  told 
might  establish  an  understanding  between  them 
and  soften  his  father. 

•  On  her  account  he  did  not  dare  to  go  to  the 
house  but  sat  down  across  the  street  from  it, 
where  eventually  he  might  see  his  father  going 
in  or  coming  out.  He  perceived  at  the  end  of 
the  street,  where  it  merged  into  the  park,  a  fig 
ure  passing  and  repassing  under  a  street  lamp  as 
though  absorbed  in  troubled  thought,  but  he  did 
not  at  first  recognize  it  as  his  father.  When 


164  Peewee 

he  did,  he  started  up  and  went  hesitatingly 
toward  him.  As  he  continued  to  tell  himself 
fiercely  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  his  father,  he 
did  not  know  why  each  step  as  he  approached 
was  slower  than  the  last,  and  why  his  flesh  was 
cold.  His  father's  look  —  hands  clenched,  eyes 
fixed  on  the  ground,  turning  back  automatically 
at  each  end  of  his  short  walk  as  though  he  did 
not  know  that  he  was  doing  it  —  increased  these 
peculiar  feelings.  He  did  not  doubt  that  his 
father  was  considering  what  he  would  like  to  do 
to  him. 

He  had  got  close  to  him,  but  his  father  did 
not  notice  him.  Twice,  in  his  absorption,  his 
father  almost  brushed  him.  Peewee  tried  to 
speak  but  could  not.  Desperately,  he  stepped 
in  his  father's  way,  but  his  father  merely  moved 
to  go  around  this  obstruction.  Peewee  perceived 
that  in  his  old  clothes  and  in  the  dark  his  father 
did  not  recognize  him  as  the  boy  he  had  seen  at 
Beman's. 

'  Well,"  his  father  demanded,  "  what  is  it  that 
you  want? " 

Peewee  could  not  reply.     By  repeating  to 


A  Difficult  Surrender  165 

himself  from  running  away.  His  father  started 
to  push  him  out  of  his  path. 

"  I'm  the  boy,"  Peewee  croaked. 

He  saw  his  father  stiffen  and  stare  down  at 
him,  then  swiftly  bend.  He  felt  him  seize  him 
and  twist  him  about  so  that  the  street  lamp 
lighted  his  face.  Markyn  raised  his  head  and 
looked  up  and  down  the  street  to  see  who  had 
come  with  him.  Peewee  waited,  his  eyes  closed, 
his  body  weak  with  his  not  understandable  feel 
ings  resting  against  his  father's  arm. 

Dry  sounds,  whose  meaning  he  could  not 
determine,  came  from  his  father's  throat. 

"  I  ran  away  from  him,"  Peewee  started  to 
explain. 

He  was  not  able  however  to  say  anything 
more,  for  Markyn  in  his  excitement  at  getting 
possession  of  the  boy,  appeared  to  think  of 
nothing  else.  He  breathed  deeply.  Suddenly 
he  clutched  Peewee's  hand  and  began  to  hurry 
him  along  the  street. 

Peewee  had  difficulty  in  making  his  legs  obey 
instructions. 


Chapter  Eleven 
THE  COUNTRY  OF  CALAMITY 

For  the  time  being,  none  of  the  things  which 
Peewee  had  been  indefinitely  expecting  hap 
pened.  His  father  did  not  throw  him  into  the 
lake  and  watch  him  drown;  he  did  not  lead  him 
into  the  darkness  of  the  park  bushes  and  murder 
him.  Keeping  tight  hold  of  Peewee's  hand,  as 
though  not  assured  that  the  boy  would  not  try 
to  escape  him,  he  led  him  to  Clark  Street,  where 
they  waited  for  a  street  car. 

Peewee's  imagination  suggested  to  him  that 
his  fate  was  probably  deferred.  His  attention 
was  taken  up  in  assuring  himself  that  the  pros 
pect  of  it  did  not  frighten  him,  and  he  stared 
angrily,  awaiting  the  chance  to  make  his  ex 
planation.  There  appeared  no  opportunity  for 
doing  this.  The  street  car,  which  was  safer  for 
persons  who  wished  to  escape  inquiry  who  might 

166 


The  Country  of  Calamity        167 

be  inquired  about,  than  a  cab  would  be,  assured 
him  of  temporary  immunity.  Nothing  would  be 
done  to  him  upon  the  car  in  the  presence  of  other 
passengers. 

They  descended  from  the  car  a  mile  from 
where  they  had  taken  it  and  stopped  in  a  drug 
store  while  his  father  telephoned.  The  globed 
lights  of  the  park,  as  they  came  out  from  the 
drug  store,  were  visible  in  the  darkness  which 
blotted  the  end  of  the  street.  They  turned, 
Peewee  noted  with  feelings  of  terror,  in  that 
direction.  Was  this  some  deserted  portion  of  the 
park  where  the  body  of  a  small  boy  could  be 
disposed  of  with  impunity?  It  was  undoubtedly 
time  to  try  the  effect  of  an  explanation  on  his 
father,  but  he  was  prevented  from  this  by  their 
stopping  at  a  house  half  way  down  the  street, 
and  by  his  father's  ringing  the  bell. 

A  tall,  yellow-skinned,  dry-looking  man  who 
opened  the  door,  evidently  had  been  expecting 
their  arrival;  it  was  to  him,  Peewee  thought,  his 
father  must  have  telephoned,  for  he  inspected 
Peewee  with  interest  but  without  surprise. 

"Where  did  you  find  him?"  he  inquired. 


168  Peewee 

"  He  was  at  Matt  Beman's.  He  ran  away 
from  there  and  I  met  him  on  the  street." 

The  tall  man  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  At 
Beman's!" 

Peewee  could  not  be  certain  whether  his  father 
was  concealing  the  nature  of  their  meeting,  or 
whether  he  was  unaware  of  Peewee's  part  in  it. 
They  followed  the  tall  man  into  a  stuffy  room, 
where  Peewee  was  given  a  chair.  He  sat  watch 
ing  them  determinedly  and  swinging  his  short 
legs  while  for  some  minutes  the  two  men  talked 
together  inaudibly. 

"  The  shorter  time  he  is  here  then,"  the  tall 
man  said  at  last,  "  the  better.  I  can  possibly 
make  arrangements  over  the  long  distance 
'phone,  and  there  is  a  train  early  this  evening." 

"  He  can't  be  taken  out  there  the  way  he  is, 

Sallet." 

"  No;  certainly.  Suppose,  while  I  am  making 
the  arrangements,  you  get  an  outfit  for  him. 
I'll  call  a  cab  for  you." 

"  Can  it  be  done  without  taking  him  along 
to  fit? " 

"Their   clothes   run,    I   think,    by   ages.      I 


The  Country  of  Calamity        169 

would  suppose  a  six  year  old  would  be  about 
right." 

Peewee  breathed  deeply  with  the  realization 
that  it  did  not  seem  probable  they  would  buy 
clothes  for  a  boy  whose  body  they  were  going  to 
dispose  of.  He  recalled  that  his  father,  on  first 
learning  of  his  existence,  had  spoken  only  of 
sending  him  away.  He  felt  now  that,  if  it  would 
would  help  Mrs.  Markyn,  he  would  be  willing 
to  be  sent  away.  Wherever  he  might  be  sent 
he  would  save  his  money,  as  Beman  had  saved 
his. 

Subsequently,  grown  up  and  no  longer  afraid 
of  what  people  could  do  'to  him,  he  would 
return,  very  wealthy,  and  see  Mrs.  Markyn. 

He  heard  his  father  leave  the  house,  and 
later  heard  Sallet  at  the  telephone,  but  could 
not  make  out  what  he  said.  He  planned,  while 
they  waited  for  his  father  to  come  back,  the 
particulars  of  his  return  in  later  years  to  see 
Mrs.  Markyn  —  himself  as  good-looking  as  his 
father,  as  forceful  as  Beman,  a  person  in  ele 
gantly  fitting  clothes,  topped  with  a  silk  hat, 
and  riding  in  a  brilliant  limousine.  His  father 


170  Peewee 

brought  back  a  number  of  bundles  and  a  little 
wicker  suitcase.  The  smallness  of  the  suitcase 
excited  Peewee;  it  seemed  to  indicate  that  the 
case  was  intended  for  himself,  and  he  had  never 
so  far  in  life  owned  any  baggage.  The  bundles 
contained  underwear  and  a  suit  of  clothes. 

"  Put  these  on,"  his  father  commanded. 

Sallet  and  his  father  stood  watching  as  Pee 
wee  stripped  himself  of  his  old  garments  and  put 
on  the  new  clothes. 

"  I  kept  the  cab,"  his  father  said  to  Sallet. 
"  I  suppose  you  made  inquiries  about  the 
trains." 

"  There  is  one." 

The  lawyer  brought  his  hat  and  coat.  His 
father,  when  they  were  ready  to  start,  stood 
gazing  down  at  the  boy  and  Peewee  gazed  back 
at  him.  There  was  no  tenderness  in  Markyn's 
look. 

"  I  suppose  you're  wondering  what  all  this 
means,"  he  inquired. 

Peewee  recalled  that  his  father  did  not  know 
that  he  knew  that  he  was  his  son. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said. 


The  Country  of  Calamity        171 

"  Mr.  Sallet  is  interested  in  boys  and  is 
going  to  have  you  taken  care  of." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Peewee  agreed. 

"  On  your  part  you  are  to  behave  yourself. 
Do  you  understand? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Peewee  clutched  the  handle  of  the  small  suit 
case,  as  the  three  went  out  at  the  front  door  and 
down  to  the  cab.  He  and  Sallet  got  in.  He 
looked  back  when  the  cab  had  started,  but  his 
father  already  was  walking  in  the  opposite  direc 
tion.  He  wished  he  had  had  the  chance  to  tell 
his  father  that  he  would  help  him  try  to  keep 
Mrs.  Markyn  from  knowing  about  him  but  the 
time  for  that  had  passed.  It  was  not  yet  clear 
what  was  being  done  with  him,  but  it  was  evi 
dent  that  he  would  not  see  his  father  wherever 
he  might  be  going. 

His  thought,  therefore,  faced  anxiously  for 
ward  to  the  fact  that  he  was  going  on  a  train. 
The  only  fear  which  Peewee  admitted  was  an 
unconquerable  fright  of  locomotives,  though  he 
enjoyed  the  rumble  of  the  elevated  above  the 
streets  and  the  clatter  of  the  street  cars  on  the 


172  Peewee 

surface.  He  did  not  know  the  reason  for  this 
fear.  If  he  had  been  asked  he  could  have  re 
plied  only  that  he  had  "  always  "  been  afraid  of 
them.  He  trembled  and  stuck  close  to  Sallet 
as  they  walked  beside  the  train  until  they  found 
their  car.  Then,  recalling  his  resentment  at 
Sallet,  he  drew  away  from  him  and  looked  up  at 
him  steadily.  When  the  small  suitcase  had  been 
put  in  the  rack  above  their  heads  and  the  train 
began  to  move,  he  could  not  see  into  the  dark 
ness  outside  the  window  except  as  they  passed 
green  and  red  lights  beside  the  track,  or  streets 
with  rows  of  street  lamps,  or  buildings  whose 
windows  were  lighted  rectangles.  The  yellow- 
faced  lawyer  scrutinized  him. 

"Exactly  how  was  it,"  Sallet  asked,  "that 
Mr.  Markyn  came  across  you?  " 

Peewee  was  certain  that  his  father  had  al 
ready  told  the  lawyer  this.  "  He  said  it  to  you, 
I  think,"  he  answered. 

"  Yes;  but  I'd  like  to  hear  you  *  say '  it  now. 
It  was  on  the  street,  wasn't  it?" 

Peewee's  antagonism  toward  Sallet  was  dis 
tinctly  different  from  his  opposition  to  Beman. 


The  Country  of  Calamity        173 

Beman  was  forceful,  threatening  and  only  inci 
dentally  crafty;  Sallet  was  primarily  crafty. 
Peewee  did  not  define  this  difference  in  words, 
but  he  recognized  that  his  experience  of  reading 
faces  on  the  street  did  not  serve  him  here.  He 
could  not  tell  by  watching  the  lawyer  what  Sal- 
let  was  thinking  about. ' 

"  He'd  seen  you  at  Beman's? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  So  of  course  he  recognized  you." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Peewee  replied  relievedly. 

"  In  the  dark,"  the  lawyer  said  in  a  perfectly 
natural  tone. 

Peewee  stiffened;  the  relief  he  had  experi 
enced  was  plainly  a  delusion. 

"  Markyn  said  he  found  you  on  the  street," 
Sallet  went  on.  "  Then  he  said  you  spoke  to 
him.  That  isn't  actually  the  point.  You  meet 
a  comparatively  strange  man  on  the  street;  he 
brings  you  to  me;  we  decree  between  us  that 
you're  to  be  taken  away,  you  don't  know  where. 
The  actual  point  is  this;  why  haven't  you  made 
any  objection? " 

Peewee  stared  at  him,  unable  to  reply. 


174  peewee 

"  You  don't  know  where  you're  going,"  the 
lawyer  stated. 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  agreed. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  there? " 

Peewee  shook  his  head. 

"All  right  then;  why  do  you  go? "  the  lawyer 
asked. 

Peewee  eyed  him  in  dou'bt.  The  lawyer,  it 
was  evident,  was  demanding  the  explanation 
which  Peewee  had  wanted  to  make  to  his  father. 

"  He  was  going  to  tell  her,"  he  replied  at  last. 

"He?    Who  was?" 

"Mr.  Beman." 

"  Whom  was  he  going  to  tell?  " 

Peewee  hesitated.  He  never  spoke  of  Mrs. 
Markyn  hy  name  and  even  in  his  thoughts  she 
was  always  merely  "  she." 

"  His  wife,"  he  said. 

It  was  evident  that  the  lawyer  did  not  under 
stand  this. 

"  Beeman  hasn't  any  wife,"  he  said.  "  What 
was  he  going  to  tell  her? " 

"About  him  and  me." 

The  lawyer  considered  these  perplexing  pro- 


The  Country  of  Calamity        175 

nouns    carefully,    and    studied    Peewee    with 
sudden  interest. 

"  Let's  understand  this,"  he  observed.  "  Be- 
man  was  going  to  tell  Mrs.  Markyn  something. 
Is  that  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 
'  What  was  he  going  to  tell  her? " 

"About  him  and  me,"  Peewee  repeated. 

The  lawyer's  expression  changed  to  one  of 
sharp  surprise;  he  had  not,  of  course,  Peewee 
appreciated,  known  any  more  than  Markyn 
knew. 

"  So  you  ran  away  from  Beman? " 

"  Yes." 

"  To  Markyn? " 

"  Yes." 

'/Why?" 

"  He  didn't  want  her  told." 

Sallett  gazed  at  Peewee  sternly,  while  he  re 
flected  upon  this.  "  I  see,"  he  said  finally. 

Peewee  could  not  tell  what  the  effect  of  this 
information  had  been  upon  the  lawyer.  It  was 
plain  that  it  had  had  a  considerable  effect,  but 
it  had  not  softened  Sallet's  manner;  rather,  he 


176  Peewee 

appeared  more  stern.  In  spite  of  his  opposition 
to  the  lawyer  and  his  anxiety  at  being  on  a 
train,  Peewee  was  very  sleepy.  At  intervals  his 
eyes  closed  unconsciously.  When  they  had  done 
this,  a  sense  of  something  indefinite  but  strongly 
terrifying  came  to  him.  It  was  not  connected 
with  Sallet  or  with  his  father;  they,  in  fact,  dis 
appeared  from  his  consciousness.  It  was  con 
nected  vaguely  with  the  clicking  of  the  car 
wheels  on  the  track  and  the  swaying  and 
rumbling  of  the  car.  It  was  like  a  dream,  but 
it  did  not  have  the  definiteness  even  of  a  dream, 
and  it  awoke  him  with  a  start  of  terror.  Each 
time  this  happened  he  saw  the  lawyer  still 
sternly  studying  him.  Finally  his  eyes  failed  to 
open  and  he  slept. 

Peewee  awoke  in  the  dim  grayness  of  early 
dawn.  It  was  so  dark  that  it  conveyed  the 
impression  that  it  still  was  night.  His  first 
consciousness  that  he  was  without  his  clothes 
was  followed  by  the  realization  that  he  was  in 
a  large,  soft  bed.  What  little  light  there 
was  came  through  a  small  square  window,  and 
above  him  there  was  a  sloping,  raftered  roof. 


The  Country  of  Calamity        177 

He  got  up  and  went  to  the  window  to  look 
out.  A  dim,  brown  field,  from  which  a  mist 
was  rising,  sloped  away  from  the  window;  at 
its  further  edge  there  was  a  narrow  strip  of 
woods,  beyond,  and  seen  over  the  top  of  the 
trees,  there  was  a  hill.  Nowhere  was  there  any 
other  house  in  sight.  Peewee  shuddered  and 
looked  about  him  for  his  clothes.  They  were 
arranged  neatly  on  a  chair.  He  put  them  on, 
did  not  notice  until  he  had  dressed  himself  in  his 
underclothes  that  the  new  suit  which  he  had 
worn  the  night  before  was  not  among  them.  It 
had  been  replaced  by  a  small  suit  of  overalls. 
The  resemblance  of  these  to  those  worn  by  work 
men  —  "  city-builders  "  of  the  practical  kind  — 
pleased  him;  but  the  undefined  change  in  his 
circumstances  which  they  implied  made  him 
anxious.  After  looking  vainly  about  again  for 
his  other  clothes  he  put  them  on. 

He  opened  the  door  cautiously  and  looked  out 
into  a  small  dark  hall.  The  hall  led  him  to  a 
narrow,  crooked  flight  of  stairs,  the  stairs  to  a 
lower  hall,  at  one  end  of  which  a  door  stood  open 
into  a  kitchen  where  a  stout,  red-haired  woman 


178  Peewee 

was  cooking  by  lamplight.  He  looked  in  at  her 
without  her  seeing  him,  then  went  to  the  door 
at  the  other  end  of  the  hall  and  opened  it.  This 
let  him  out  onto  a  small  wooden  porch.  He 
observed  now,  at  the  side  of  the  house  not  visible 
from  his  window,  a  barn  and  outbuildings.  A 
tall,  thin  man  in  overalls  and  cowhide  shoes  came 
out  of  the  barn  with  a  measure  of  grain  in  his 
hand  and  went  into  a  shed.  A  sound  remotely 
resembling  an  auto-horn  came  to  him,  and  look 
ing  in  that  direction  he  perceived  an  animal 
with  horns  and  a  smaller  one  without  any,  which 
some  internal  conviction  told  him  were  a  cow 
and  a  calf.  He  heard  another  sound  like  that 
of  a  large  crowd  of  people  talking  all  together 
at  a  great  distance  and  hurried  around  the 
corner  of  the  house  to  discover  whence  it  came 
and  found  that  it  was  made  by  chickens. 

Brown  or  green  fields  sloped  in  all  directions 
away  from  the  small,  wooden  house.  No  other 
house  could  be  seen  from  it,  and  no  one  in 
sight.  Peewee  went  to  the  door  of  the  shed 
which  the  thin  man  had  entered  and  looked  in. 
The  shed,  it  developed,  held  some  other  cows. 


The  Country  of  Calamity        179 

The  man  sat  on  a  stool  beside  one,  shooting  a 
stream  of  milk  from  beneath  the  cow  into  a  tin 
pail.  Peewee  recoiled  toward  the  house.  He 
had  been  aware,  by  theory,  that  milk  came  from 
cows,  but  he  had  not  seen  the  process  in  opera 
tion  before  and  the  sight  revolted  him. 

The  man  emerged  presently  from  the  shed, 
and  set  his  milk  pail  down  and  crossed  to  a 
small  garden.  Here  he  pulled  out  of  the  ground 
certain  small  red  objects  which  experience  of 
South  Water  Street  informed  Peewee  were 
radishes.  The  man  struck  the  radishes  against 
the  palm  of  his  hand  to  shake  the  earth  off  them. 
A  feeling  of  unhappiness  came  to  Peewee,  and 
he  went  back  into  the  house  and  into  the  kitchen 
where  the  red-haired  woman  was  at  work. 

"Where's  Mr.   Sallet?"  he  inquired. 

"  He  went  back  last  night  after  leaving  you 
here.  Say  good  morning  the  first  time  you  see 
anybody,"  the  woman  directed  without  looking 
at  him. 

'  Yes,  ma'am,"  Peewee  agreed. 

The  thin  man  came  in  at  the  kitchen  door  and 
put  his  milk  pail  and  the  radishes  down  on  a 


180  Peewee 

bench,  and  began  to  wash  his  hands  at  the  sink. 

"  Breakfast  in  a  minute,  father,"  the  woman 
observed. 

Peewee  reflected  upon  the  form  of  this  ad 
dress.  It  was  not  possible  that  the  thin  man  was 
the  woman's  father.  "  Father,"  in  this  instance, 
must  be  the  correct  formality  in  addressing  him. 

"  Hello,"  the  man  remarked,  looking  at 
Peewee. 

"  Good  morning,  father,"  Peewee  replied. 

"  You  mustn't  call  him  '  father,'  "  the  woman 
rebuked  him.  "  Call  him  Mr.  Miller.  And  I'm 
Mrs.  Miller." 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Miller,"  Peewee  assented. 

The  woman  poured  some  of  the  fresh  milk 
into  a  glass  and  put  it  on  the  table. 

"  Set  up,"  she  directed.  Peewee  stared  at  her, 
perplexed  by  this  admonition  whiVh  seemed  to 
be  addressed  to  himself.  "  Set  up  to  the  table," 
the  woman  repeated  crossly. 

Peewee  drew  himself  upon  the  chair  to  which 
she  pointed  and  tasted  of  the  milk.  It  was  still 
warm,  and  he  pushed  it  away  from  him,  re 
pelled  by  recollection  of  the  cow.  He  looked  at 


The  Country  of  Calamity        181 

the  radishes  which  had  been  washed  and  put 
upon  the  table.  There  were  potatoes  also,  and 
the  realization  came  suddenly  to  him  that  these 
too  had  been  taken  from  the  ground.  In  hap 
pier  days  he  had  picked  such  things  up  from  the 
gutters  of  South  Water  Street  without  repug 
nance,  but  they  had  had  then  behind  them  a 
history  of  cleanly  barrels  or  crates. 

He  choked,  and  his  feeling  of  unhappiness 
increased  into  the  sense  of  an  immense  calamity. 


Chapter  Twelve 
COMING  TO  A  SHOW-DOWN 

Very  clean  as  to  his  hands  and  face,  and 
dressed  in  the  clothes  his  father  had  bought  in 
Chicago,  Peewee  sat  on  the  haircloth  sofa  in  the 
small,  formal  parlor  of  the  farmhouse.  His 
arrayal  in  these  unaccustomed  garments  for  a 
week  day,  and  his  lonely  isolation  in  the  parlor 
presaged  another  change  in  his  existence.  No 
indication  of  the  nature  of  this  change  had  been 
given  him,  and  the  uncertainty  filled  him  with 
anxiety.  He  studied  at  times  the  brilliantly 
colored  pictures  on  the  parlor  walls  and  the  wax 
flowers  under  a  glass  ball  on  the  round  table, 
but  for  the  most  part  he  merely  listened.  The 
reason  for  this  was  that  he  had  been  told  not 
to  get  off  the  sofa,  and  that  from  it  he  could 
not  see  out  at  the  window.  He  appreciated  that 
whatever  was  now  about  to  happen  to  him  would 

182 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        183 

be  preceeded  by  some  arrival  along  the  road, 
and  in  default  of  sight  there  would  be  only 
sound  to  warn  him  of  this  coming. 

He  had  grown,  in  the  three  weeks  which  he 
had  spent  upon  the  farm,  very  familiar  with  the 
road.  It  came  to  him,  a  dusty  track,  over  the 
top  of  the  hill,  it  descended  to  a  level  sandy 
stretch,  and  in  the  distance  it  ascended  another 
hill  and  vanished.  Few  vehicles  passed  along  the 
road;  there  was  occasionally  an  automobile  and 
a  little  more  frequently  a  springless  farm- 
wagon.  His  soul  abhorred  the  farm-yard  where 
the  chickens  nestled  in  the  dust,  but  the  road 
gave  him  a  sense  of  horror.  The  definite  disap 
pearance  of  its  two  ends  over  the  hills  epitom 
ized  his  loneliness.  By  day,  he  sat  against  the 
house  wall,  concealed  by  a  laburnum  bush,  and 
watched  for  someone  to  come  past  on  it;  by 
night,  when  darkness  settled  on  the  little  farm 
house  and  no  light  blinked  anywhere  in  sight, 
it  was  the  recollection  of  the  empty  road  which 
would  not  let  him  sleep.  It  made  him  think  of 
streets  where  high  buildings  stood  closely  side 
by  side,  of  pavements  thundering  with  vehicles, 


184  peewee 

and  of  sidewalks  crowded  with  people.  He 
envied  happier  boys  who  sold  newspapers  among 
those  people  and  listened  to  what  they  said 
to  one  another. 

He  stiffened  now,  as  he  heard  the  chug-chug 
of  a  motor  car  on  the  road.  The  sound  grew 
louder  and  then  ceased.  The  car  had  been 
stopped,  then,  at  the  house.  He  strained  un 
easily  in  his  seat  as  the  farmer's  wife  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  listened  for  some  other 
voice  than  hers.  Then  he  braced  himself  sus 
piciously,  for  the  voice  which  came  to  him  was 
Sallet's. 

It  was  plain  that  the  conjunction  of  Sallet's 
arrival  and  his  own  dressed-up  condition  indi 
cated  that  he  was  to  be  taken  somewhere  else. 
Why?  Had  Beman  discovered  where  he  was,  or 
Lampert?  In  that  case,  Sallet  had  come  to  take 
him  somewhere  still  further  from  Chicago,  and 
Peewee's  imagination  shrank  in  horror  from  try 
ing  to  imagine  what  a  place  still  further  from 
the  city  would  be  like. 

"  Ready,  young  man? "  Sallet  inquired,  ap 
pearing  at  the  door. 


Coming  to  a  Show-Do wn        185 

*  Yes,  sir,"  Peewee  replied  guardedly. 

"  Go  out  and  get  into  the  car." 

Peewee  halted  in  the  hall  to  look  after  Sallet. 
The  lawyer  had  gone  in  into  the  kitchen  and  was 
talking  with  the  farmer  there  and  giving  him 
money.  As  Peewee  descended  the  three  steps 
in  front  of  the  house,  the  large  red  hen  which  he 
detested  more  than  any  of  the  other  chickens  was 
throwing  dust  over  her  back  beside  the  door 
step.  He  stopped,  considering  a  final  vindictive 
assault  upon  the  hen.  The  lowness  of  his  spirits 
prevented  this  and  he  went  on  to  the  motor. 
The  car,  he  observed  by  the  tracks  in  the  road, 
had  been  turned  around  in  the  direction  from 
which  it  had  come,  but  there  was  neither  addi 
tional  threat  nor  any  promise  in  this.  He  did 
not  dare  to  ask  any  questions  of  the  driver,  or  of 
Sallet  when  he  came  out  carrying  Peewee's  small 
suitcase. 

Peewee  had  observed  that  wagons  usually 
were  loaded  when  going  in  the  direction  the 
motor  was  headed,  and  empty  when  they  came 
back.  This  seemed  to  predicate  something  im 
portant  at  the  end  of  the  road;  it  proved,  how- 


186  Peewee 

ever,  to  end  in  a  small,  uninteresting  village. 
They  traversed  a  street  flanked  on  each  side  by 
farm  wagons  and  stopped  at  the  railway  depot. 
Having  paid  the  driver,  Sallet  left  Peewee  on 
a  settee  in  the  waiting  room  while  he  bought 
the  tickets.  This  meant,  Peewee  lugubriously 
decided,  that  they  were  going  very  far  indeed. 
Directions  were  not  known  to  him,  and  in  his 
nervousness,  when  the  train  finally  thundered 
in,  he  could  not  tell  the  way  that  it  was  going. 
Seated  beside  Sallet  in  the  car,  he  looked  un 
easily  out  of  the  window  whenever  they  passed 
through  villages,  but  looked  about  the  car  when 
there  were  only  fields  outside. 

At  the  end  of  some  two  hours,  it  became  plain 
that  the  villages  were  getting  closer  together. 
After  looking  at  one  of  them  Peewee  only  had 
time  to  take  one  or  sometimes  two  bites  of  the 
sandwich  with  which  Sallet  had  provided  him, 
before  they  came  to  another.  They  passed 
presently  a  wide-spread  factory  with  many  little 
houses  grouped  about  it;  then  a  whole  string  of 
factories.  He  put  his  sandwich  down  upon  the 
windowsill  and,  forgetting  it,  stared  out  con- 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        187 

tinuously.  He  trembled  as  he  saw  finally  a 
street  where  children  were  playing  between  un 
broken  rows  of  red  brick  houses.  Other  streets 
succeeded.  They  were  unquestionably  entering 
some  large  city.  But  what  city  Peewee  could 
not  yet  tell. 

The  train  rolled  slowly  into  a  long,  covered 
train-shed  and  his  recognition  of  it  filled  him 
with  nostalgia.  He  saw,  as  they  descended,  a 
policeman  whom  he  remembered  having  seen 
before.  He  wanted,  as  they  passed  through  the 
station,  to  run  away  from  Sallet  out  into  the 
streets,  but  now  the  lawyer  held  him  firmly  by 
the  hand.  He  shook  violently  as  he  was  put 
into  a  taxicab.  The  thronging  faces  of  people, 
.  the  roar  of  vehicles,  the  clang  of  street-car  bells 
and  the  rumble  of  the  elevated  stirred  him  with 
delight.  He  would  have  been  perfectly  happy, 
he  thought,  if  the  lawyer  had  let  him  get  out 
and  sit  down  on  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk  with 
his  feet  in  the  gutter,  but  his  opinion  of  Sallet 
showed  him  the  impossibility  of  the  lawyer's 
doing  that. 

The  cab  stopped  before  an  office  building. 


188  Peewee 

They  got  out  and  ascended  in  an  elevator  to  a 
corridor  where  there  were  several  doors  marked 
with  Sallet's  name.  The  lawyer  unlocked  the 
furthest  of  these  doors  and  pushed  Peewee 
ahead  of  him  into  a  small,  carpeted  private 
office.  Peewee  grew  tense  with  resentment  as 
he  recognized  his  father  awaiting  them  within. 

"Had  there  been  anyone  at  the  farm?" 
Markyn  asked  of  Sallet. 

"  They'd  noticed  no  one." 

The  question  confirmed  Peewee's  idea  that 
it  was  most  probably  Beman  who  had  discovered 
where  he  was,  and  he  wondered  what  more  than 
merely  discovering  Beman  had  done. 

'Would  you  mind  leaving  us  alone?" 
Markyn  said  to  the  lawyer. 

Sallet  went  into  the  next  office  and  closed 
the  door,  and  Peewee  surveyed  his  father  an 
tagonistically.  It  seemed  to  him  that  his  father 
appeared  more  than  usually  troubled. 

"Sit  down." 

Peewee  drew  himself  up  onto  the  nearest 
chair.  His  father  paced  up  and  down  in  front 
of  him. 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        189 

"Did  you  like  it  on  the  farm?"  Markyn 
asked  abruptly. 

Peewee  shook  his  head. 

"  But  you  would  have   stayed  there? " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Why? " 

Sallet,  Peewee  reflected,  had  undoubtedly  told 
his  father  of  their  conversation  on  the  train. 

"  So  she  wouldn't  find  out  who  I  am,"  he 
answered. 

Markyn  was  staring  queerly  down  at  him. 
"  That's  what  I  understood.  You  seem  to  have 
an  appreciation  that  it's  going  to  be  a  grief 
to  Mrs.  Markyn  to  learn  about  you.  I  don't 
know  how  you've  come  to  realize  that.  I  don't 
know  how  much  more  you're  capable  of  under 
standing.  You  know  a  lot  of  things  which  you 
ought  not  to  know,  I  imagine.  The  things  you 
ought  to  know,  it's  probable,  you  don't.  Have 
you  ever  loved  anyone? " 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  replied  indignantly.  Love, 
in  his  definition  of  it,  was  something  soft.  It 
connected  itself  vaguely  in  his  mind  with  tears, 
which  he  considered  shameful.  He  did  not  give 


190  Peewee 

any  name  to  what  he  felt  toward  Mrs.  Markyn. 

"  I  don't  know  how  to  approach  you,"  his 
father  said.  "  You're  as  incomprehensible  to 
me  as,  I  suppose,  I  am  to  you." 

What,  Peewee  wondered,  was  his  father  get 
ting  at?  He  drew  up  a  chair  and  sat  down 
facing  Peewee  and  took  both  his  small  hands. 
He  seemed  embarassed  and  uncertain. 

"  Son,  when  you  saw  your  mother  before  she 
died,  did  she  tell  you  her  name? " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  You  know  it,  though?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.  Helen  Lampert."  There  could 
be,  Peewee  felt,  no  object  to  be  gained  by  not 
being  open  with  his  father.  "  She  changed  her 
names,"  he  offered. 

"  I  know  she  changed  her  names.  But  Helen 
Lampert  was  her  real  one.  Did  she — ,"  his 
father  hesitated.  "  Did  she  speak  as  though  she 
had  ever  changed  her  name  the  way  women  usu 
ally  change  their  names  —  by  being  married?" 

The  question  was  a  little  deep  for  Peewee. 
"  No,"  he  decided  finally. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  she  had  not  been  married?  " 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        191 

"No,  sir." 

"  Did  she  say  anything  about  marriage  at  all? " 

"  No,  sir." 

She  had  not  been  married.  Peewee  knew 
that  and  knew  that  his  father  knew  it  too.  Why 
was  his  father  asking  this? 

"  When  she  gave  you  my  name,  what  did  she 
say  to  you  about  me? " 

Peewee  considered.  "  She  said  I  wasn't  to 
tell  people  the  name.  She  said  she  and  I  were 
the  only  ones  who  knew  that  it  was  you." 

"  She  didn't  speak  as  if  she  had  been  married 
to  me?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

The  answer  seemed  to  satisfy  his  father. 
•"Son,"  he  said,  "  I  think  we've  come,  all  of  us, 
to  what  is  called  a  show-down.  Do  you  know 
what  that  means?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Peewee.  He  knew  the 
phrases  of  the  streets. 

"  I've  had  to  send  for  you  to  ask  you  to  help 
me."  He  drew  Peewee's  hands  together,  hold 
ing  them  between  his  own.  '  Will  you  listen 
to  me  and  try  to  understand?  " 


192  Peewee 

Peewee  nodded.  But  he  looked  at  his  father 
with  suspicion. 

"  Your  mother  had  never  told  me  about  you; 
she'd  kept  that  secret  from  me  just  as  my  name 
had  been  kept  from  you.  She'd  kept  it  from  all 
others,  too.  Her  own  family,  her  father,  did 
not  know.  But  her  father,  Ben  Lampert,  long 
before  had  known  about  her  and  me.  He  put 
together  what  he'd  known  before  and  what  he 
had  just  learned  and  made  me  give  him  money 
to  keep  him  from  telling  Mrs.  Markyn.  He 
came  several  times  and  each  time  I  gave  him 
money,  but  not,  he  thought,  enough.  I  couldn't 
give  him  all  he  asked.  So  finally  I  stopped." 

Peewee  understood  about  this  blackmail. 
Wasn't  it  Beman,  then,  who  had  made  this 
present  trouble?  It  appeared  to  have  been 
Peewee's  grandfather,  Ben  Lampert, .  who  had 
done  it. 

"  Now  Lampert  has  done  something  else,"  his 
father  continued.  "A  shyster  lawyer  rame  to 
me  two  days  ago  and  told  me  that,  unless  I  give 
them  more  money  than  I  possibly  can  give, 
they're  going  to  bring  suit  in  court  to  prove  that 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        193 

you're  legitimate.  Do  you  know  what  that 
means? " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  They  claim  your  mother  and  I  were  married. 
They  say  Lampert  found  evidence  of  that 
among  the  things  left  by  your  mother  in  her 
trunk." 

Peewee  felt  inconsequential  interest  in  the 
trunk.  He  recalled  it,  and  the  strong  perfume 
that  came  from  it,  and  the  disordered,  gorgeous, 
spotted  dresses  it  had  contained. 

"  Do  you  understand?  Whatever  they  have 
by  which  to  try  to  prove  that  that  was  so  they 
have  made  up  by  themselves.  But  I  shall  have 
to  show  it  is  untrue  in  court,  where  it  all  will  be 
public.  To  give  them  more  money  is  only  to  put 
all  this  off.  Sooner  or  later  I  shall  have  to 
stop,  and  they  will  do  it  then." 

"  Tell  her,"  Peewee  offered,  "  that  what  they 
say  isn't  true." 

"  I'm  afraid  it  will  do  no  good  to  tell  her  that. 
Whatever  else  they  may  fail  to  prove  in  court, 
they  can  at  least  prove  that  you  are  my  son." 

Peewee    reflected.      Something   that    Beman 


194  Peewee 

once  said  to  him  recurred  to  him.  "If  a  boy 
does  you  dirt,"  Beman  had  advised,  "  hit  him 
in  the  eye." 

"  Why  don't  you  do  something  to  Lampert?  " 
he  suggested. 

"  There's  nothing  effective  I  can  do  to  Lam- 
pert.  Son,  I  have  decided  that  the  time  has 
come  when  I  must  tell  Mrs.  Markyn  about  you. 
If  she  must  know,  I  would  rather  she  learned 
it  all  from  me. 

"  After  I  have  told  her,  I  want  her  to  see  you. 
It  may  make  it  more  possible  for  her  to  forgive 
me." 

Peewee  stared  upward  at  him,  startled.  So 
this  was  why  he  had  been  brought  here ! 

"Are  you  going  to  tell  her  now? "  he  asked 
uneasily. 

"  Not  to-night.  To-morrow  will  be  the  time,  I 
think.  Sallet  will  take  care  of  you  until  I  need 
you.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"You're  sure?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

His  father  gazed  down  at  him  a  moment  as 


Coming  to  a  Show-Down        195 

if  to  assure  himself  of  Pee  wee's  comprehension, 
thnn  went  to  the  door  and  called  the  lawyer. 
They  talked  inaudibly  together  and  went  out. 
Sallet  came  back. 

'  You'll  have  to  wait  here  a  little  while,"  he 
said.  "  Then  I'll  look  after  you." 

He  closed  the  door  on  Peewee  and  the  boy  sat 
staring  gloomily.  He  was  not  directly  thinking 
about  what  his  father  had  said.  He  was  think 
ing  about  Mrs.  Markyn.  When  he  saw  her 
again  his  father  would  have  told  her  all  about 
him.  He  did  not  hope,  as  his  father  seemed  to 
hope,  that  her  liking  for  himself  would  make  her 
forgive  them  both.  People,  he  thought,  did  not 
forgive  other  people  who  had  destroyed  their 
happiness.  Whatever  her  feelings  toward  his 
father  might  become,  she  would  have  only  hate 
for  himself.  He  remembered  how,  the  last  time 
he  had  seen  her,  she  had  talked  long  and  kindly 
with  him;  she  had  put  her  cool,  slim  fingers 
against  his  cheek;  finally  moved  by  his  friendli 
ness,  she  impulsively  kissed  him.  She  would 
never  now  do  that  again.  He  regretted  that  he 
had  let  them  send  him  to  the  farm.  If  he  had 


196  peewee 

not  done  that  he  might  have  seen  her  on  those 
days.  He  wished  that  he  could  see  her  once 
more  before  she  hated  him. 

The  day  was  pleasant  and  it  was  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon.  On  pleasant  days  he  had  seen 
her  dften  between  three  and  four  walking  upon 
the  esplanade  besides  the  children's  bathing 
beach.  Would  she  walk  there  to-day?  The  de 
sire  to  see  her  once  more  before  she  knew  was 
overwhelming  in  him. 

He  got  up,  shaking  excitedly,  and  examined 
the  lock  upon  the  door.  He  went  to  the  other 
door  and  listened  and  heard  Sallet  speaking 
to  a  clerk.  He  sped  noiselessly  back  to  the 
first  door,  turned  the  knob  of  the  spring  lock 
and  darted  out  into  the  corridor.  The  elevator 
by  which  he  had  ascended  with  Sallet  was  in  the 
front.  There  was,  he  perceived,  a  stairway  in 
the  rear.  He  tumbled  breathlessly  down  four 
flights  of  stairs  into  a  hallway  at  one  end  of 
which  he  saw  a  door  that  opened  on  the  alley. 
He  rushed  out  and  ran  down  the  alley  across 
Dearborn  Street  to  State  and  then  turned 
north.  The  street  was  crowded;  boys  were 


Coming  to  a  Showdown        197 

selling  papers.  He  observed  with  satisfaction 
the  mud  which  had  splashed  his  Sunday  shoes. 

When  he  had  reached  the  river  he  stopped 
for  several  minutes  in  deep  thought,  but  recon 
sidered  the  idea  which  had  come  to  him.  First 
he  would  see  Mrs.  Markyn.  When  he  had  done 
that,  it  would  be  time  to  do  the  other  things  he 
had  been  thinking  of.  Had  some  other  boy 
taken  the  post  upon  the  street  where  he  had  sold 
his  papers?  If  that  was  so,  he  would  find  great 
satisfaction  in  taking  summary  revenge  upon 
him  —  provided  always  that  the  boy  did  not 
prove  too  big.  There  was  an  alley  where  the 
boys  pitched  pennies  which  he  would  then  re 
visit,  and  he  would  call  on  the  old  woman  in 
whose  cellar  he  formerly  had  slept. 

Meanwhile,  he  had  crossed  the  bridge,  and  at 
Chicago  Avenue  the  curved  esplanade  of  the 
Lake  Shore  Drive  appeared  before  him.  He 
halted,  studying  nervously  Beman's  huge  stone 
house,  with  its  driveway  and  garages  on  his  left. 
Beman  did  not  often  leave  his  house  or  look  out 
of  its  windows,  but  one  of  his  many  servants 
might  be  looking  out  and  recognize  Peewee. 


198  Peewee 

He  retraced  his  steps  to  the  first  cross  street, 
went  west  to  Astor,  walked  north  a  block  past 
Beman's  house  and  returned  to  the  drive, 
There  he  sat  down  to  wait  upon  the  breakwater. 
It  was  almost  certain  Mrs.  Markyn  would 
take  her  walk  upon  such  a  sunny  day. 


Chapter  Thirteen 
BACK  TO  THE  BIG  HOUSE 

The  limousine  had  swung  into  the  drive  sev 
eral  blocks  to  the  north  of  him  and  Peewee  could 
not  be  sure  at  that  distance  if  it  was  her's.  It 
stopped  at  the  edge  of  the  greensward,  still 
too  far  away  for  certainty  as  to  the  car,  but 
there  was  no  mistaking  her  slim  figure.  His 
heart  leaped  as  he  saw  her  cross  to  the  esplanade 
and  he  trembled  as  she  turned  in  the  direction 
which  would  lead  her  past  him. 

Her  start  of  surprise  and  eagerness  as  she 
saw  him  was  a  warning  to  him. 

"  Oh!  you  have  come  back!  "  She  said.  "I'm 
glad. 

He  smiled  at  her  with  careful  innocence. 
"  Yes'm,"  he  said. 

"  You  didn't  keep  your  promise.  You  didn't 
stay  with  Mr.  Beman.  You  ran  away." 

199 


200  Peewee 

"Yes'm;  I  did." 

:<  Why? "  She  sat  down  beside  him  on  the 
concrete  step.  "  Please  tell  me  why  you  didn't 
stay  there." 

Should  he  pretend  to  her  it  had  'been  from 
fear  of  Beman?  Should  he  tell  her  something 
else?  Her  nearness  had  its  effect  of  bewilder 
ment  upon  him.  She  had  on  a  dress  he  had 
not  seen  before;  he  thought  it  prettier  than 
the  others.  Her  dark  hair  was  looped  under  a 
close  round  hat.  The  faint,  sweet  odor  of  her 
presence,  as  he  breathed  it,  made  him  fight 
against  an  incomprehensible  impulse  toward 
tears. 

"  I  didn't  like  it  there,"  he  replied. 

"Why?" 

"  I  just  didn't  like  it." 

She  looked  wonderingly  at  him.  '  You  mean 
to  say  you  ran  away  from  where  you  would 
have  had  good  food  and  clothes  and  someone  to 
look  after  you  just  back  to  the  streets? " 

"  Yes'm." 

"  You're  like  a  little  wild  thing,"  she  ob 
served.  "  I  can't  understand  you.  Don't  you 


Back  to  the  Big  House          201 

know  that  someday  you'll  grow  up  and  that  you 
ought  to  have  the  things  now  that  will  make  you 
then  a  strong,  good  man?  " 

"  Yes'm,"  he  said. 

She  would  never  be  like  this  again  to  him,  he 
was  thinking.  When  he  saw  her  again  his  father 
would  have  told  her.  There  would  not  be  that 
kind  interest  in  her  clear  blue  eyes,  that  sweetness 
in  her  smile. 

'  You  wouldn't  want  me  to  take  you  back 
there  again?  " 

"  No'm." 

"  You  understand  that  I  want  to  do  some 
thing  for  you  —  help  you?" 
'  "  Yes'm." 

"  If  I  found  some  other  place,  some  nicer 
place  where  you  would  like  to  be  and  where 
they  would  take  care  of  you,  would  you  let  me 
send  you  there? " 

He  pretended  to  consider;  there  was  no  harm 
in  promising. 

"  Yes'm." 

;<  Will  you  go  with  me  now? " 

He    drew    away    from    her    apprehensively. 


202  Peewee 

"  No'm." 

"  Will  you  let  me  give  you  a  note  to  someone 
who  will  feed  you  and  take  care  of  you 
to-night? 

He  shook  his  head  violently. 

"  Then  what  can  I  do?  Will  you  meet  me 
here  to-morrow? " 

He  wanted  to  cry.  To-morrow  she  would 
not  want  to  meet  him;  to-morrow  she  would 
think  of  him  with  bitterness  and  dislike. 
"  Yes'm,"  he  said. 

"  You'll  surely  come  here?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  wouldn't  let  you  go  away  —  I'd  take  you 
with  me  now,  only  I  don't  want  to  make  yoa 
not  like  me;  I  don't  want  to  frighten  you,'* 
She  got  up,  holding  out  a  five  dollar  bill  to  him. 
"  Be  sure  you  have  a  place  to  eat  and  sleep 
to-night." 

He  put  the  money  in  his  pocket,  standing  up 
because  she  had.  He  hung  his  head  and  put 
one  foot  upon  the  other  in  embarrassment;  he 
wanted  her  to  kiss  him  and  did  not  know  how 
to  ask.  She  reacted  unconsciously  to  his  desire. 


Back  to  the  Big  House          203 

'  We'll  bind  our  bargain  then,"  she  said, 
"  like  this." 

He  trembled  violently  as  he  felt  her  lips,  and 
stood  looking  after  her  as  she  crossed  the  green 
sward  and  bridle  path  to  the  waiting  motor. 
She  hesitated  and  turned  back  a  step  as  though 
doubtful  of  her  decision  not  to  force  him  to 
go  with  her,  but  finally  got  into  the  car. 

The  loneliness  which  choked  him  as  the 
motor  disappeared  changed  slowly  to  resent 
ment.  That  she  was  never  going  to  be  like 
this  to  him  again  was  because  of  Lampert. 
He  had  no  feeling  toward  his  grandfather  ex 
cept  dislike  and  scorn.  It  made  him  angry  that 
his  father  had  not  tried  harder  to  stop  Lampert. 
Instead  of  that  his  father  had  let  Lampert 
frighten  him  by  saying  that  he  was  going  into 
court.  As  he  looked  toward  the  great  house 
just  down  the  street,  he  thought  that  the 
fierce,  self-willed,  violent  old  man  who  lived  in 
it  would  not  have  been  afraid  of  Lampert. 
If  it  had  been  Beman  whom  Lampert  had  been 
dealing  with,  Lampert  would  have  been 
stopped.  Beman,  in  spite  of  his  age,  had  given 


204  peewee 

Peewee  an  impression  of  irresistibleness.  Peewee 
worshipped  strength,  for  the  streets  had  taught 
him  that  boys  who  let  other  boys  frighten  them 
never  sold  their  papers. 

He  went  west  toward  Clark  Street,  because 
there  were  more  people  on  that  street  than  these 
others,  projecting  in  his  mind  his  plans  for  re 
visiting  dirtier  and  more  dismal  and  still  more 
crowded  streets,  but  the  thought  of  Beman  per 
sisted  and  slowed  his  steps.  He  had  been 
disturbed  by  Beman  only  because  Beman  had 
been  going  to  tell  Mrs.  Markyn  about  him. 
Now  that  Mrs.  Markyn  was  to  be  told  anyway 
there  was  no  longer  any  reason  for  considering 
Beman  that  way.  What,  he  wondered,  would 
Beman  do,  if  he  knew  what  Lampert  was 
preparing? 

He  turned  back  finally  to  Astor  Street  and 
walked  south.  He  dodged  through  a  narrow 
passage  between  two  buildings  and  came  out 
in  the  rear  of  Beman's  house.  The  servant's 
entrance  door  opening  upon  the  paved  court 
was,  he  knew,  usually  unlocked.  He  pushed  at 
it  and  crept  into  the  servants'  hall,  letting  the 


Back  to  the  Big  House          205 

door  reclose  noiselessly.  Listening  and  hearing 
nothing,  he  went  up  the  stairs  to  the  great, 
beautiful  main  hall.  He  listened  again,  then 
crossed  the  polished  floor  without  a  sound  and 
looked  in  at  the  door  of  Beman's  den.  The 
old  man  was  there,  sitting  in  front  of  his  wood 
fire  —  immense  and  powerful  even  in  repose. 
Peewee  coughed  and  Beman  then  looked  up. 

"Hello,"  he  said. 

"  Hello,"  Peewee  returned. 

Beman,  he  saw,  looked  past  him  toward  the 
door.  The  old  man  had  had  agents  searching 
for  him  and  supposed  that  one  of  them  had 
brought  him  there.  When  he  saw  no  one  with 
him  his  sharp  eyes  rested  on  Peewee  more 
attentively. 

"  Who  brought  you  back?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  just  came,"  Peewee  answered  sweetly. 
"  I  like  it  here." 

Beman  swung  around  in  his  chair  to  study 
Peewee.  "  You  were  here  before,"  he  said.  "  You 
didn't  seem  to  like  it  then;  you  ran  away." 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Why  did  you  do  that?" 


206  peewee 

Beman,  Peewee  reflected,  did  not  know  that 
he  knew  who  his  father  was.  He  had  to  be 
told  now,  for  nothing  could  be  accomplished 
without  it. 

"  I  ran  away  because  you  were  going  to  show 
me  to  her  and  tell  her  who  I  am." 

Beman  seemed  surprised  as  much  as  an  old 
man  can  be  surprised. 

"  I  listened  at  the  door,"  Peewee  explained, 
"  and  heard  you  say  that  to  him  —  that  you 
were  going  to  tell  her." 

Beman  seemed  to  comprehend.  "  I  see,"  he 
said.  He  thought  a  moment.  "  Don't  happen 
to  have  learned  yet  who  your  father  is,  have 

you?" 

He  wanted  to  discover,  Peewee  compre 
hended,  how  much  had  been  overheard,  and 
was  concealing  his  real  question  under  the  in 
directness  of  this  inquiry. 

"  I  knew  that  all  along,"  Peewee  answered 
with  sweetness. 

Beman  seemed  amazed  and  appeared  to  have 
gained  a  sudden  respect  for  Peewee  as  though 
he  recognized  that  Peewee  was  deeper  than  he 


Back  to  the  Big  House          207 

looked.     The  heavy  brows  came  down  over  his 
cold,  gray  eyes.      '  You  did?  "  he  said. 

'  Yes,  sir.  I  ran  away  because  I  didn't  want 
her  to  be  told,  but  now  I  don't  care  if  you  tell 
her  because  she's  going  to  be  told  anyway." 

"  What's  this?  "  Beman  demanded.  "  Who's 
going  to  tell  her?  " 

Peewee  considered  his  reply  to  this.  "  My 
grandfather  is  going  to  make  my  father  tell 
her." 

"  Make  him?  "  Beman  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,  sir." 


"  He's  going  to  show  in  court  that  he  was 
married  to  my  mother."  Courts  were  places 
well  known  to  Peewee  ;  he  swung  one  leg  to  and 
fro  and  smiled  at  Beman.  "  They  say  they 
found  what  shows  in  her  trunk." 

"Found  what?" 

"  I  don't  know.  It  shows  that  he  was  mar 
ried  to  her." 

"A  marriage  certificate?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  My  father  says  they  made 
it  up  themselves." 


208  Peewee 

"  Forged  it?  It  must  be  some  sort  of  a  cer 
tificate  then." 

The  facts  of  life,  though  not  the  names  that 
many  of  them  were  called  by,  were  known  to 
Peewee.  The  circles  he  had  lived  in  were  those 
where  people  broke  the  laws.  He  had  known 
of  men  who  married  several  wives  without  for 
malities  of  divorce;  it  had  been  very  plain  that, 
in  such  a  case,  the  first  wife  was  respected  and  the 
others  regarded  as  unfortunate.  Would  Beman, 
it  had  suddenly  occurred  to  him  upon  the  street, 
allow  his  granddaughter  to  be  threatened  pub 
licly  with  that  kind  of  misfortune?  Beman  had 
wanted  to  separate  Markyn  from  his  wife, 
but  he  had  not  been  willing  there  should  be  a 
scandal.  Lampert  was  preparing  scandal.  Pee 
wee  had  not  consciously  weighed  these  things, 
but  he  had  felt  that  if  Beman  knew  what  was 
going  on  he  would  not  like  it. 

He  saw  with  satisfaction  Beman  get  up  onto 
his  stiff  old  legs  and  move  irritably  about  the 
room.  He  looked  bigger  and  more  threatening 
standing  up  than  in  his  chair.  The  gray  skin 
of  his  face  whitened  and  his  voice  was  angry. 


Back  to  the  Big  House          209 

"Who  started  this?" 

"  I  said  my  grandfather." 

"Ben  Lampert?  There's  someone  helping 
him.  Who?" 

"  He's  got  a  lawyer." 

"  What's  the  lawyer's  name?  " 

Peewee  shook  his  head;  his  father  had  not 
told  him  that. 

"  My  father  said  he  was  going  to  tell  her  to 
morrow,"  Peewee  remarked. 

"He  is?  What  business  has  he  got  to  tell 
her?  She's  my  granddaughter,  ain't  she?  If 
anybody's  to  tell  her,  I'm  to  tell  her  —  not  him, 
or  Lampert.  What's  he  going  to  tell  her? 
How  much? " 

Peewee  surveyed  Beman  with  astonishment. 
It  was  quite  plain  that  there  was  but  one  thing 
which  anyone  would  have  to  tell  Mrs.  Markyn; 
when  she  knew  who  Peewee  was  she  would 
know  all.  Did  Beman  mean  that  there  were 
still  other  things  to  know  about  Peewee?  The 
boy  did  not  know  why  the  old  man's  manner 
brought  this  thought  to  him.  But  he  was  aware 
that  there  had  been  a  change  in  Beman  —  a 


210  Peewee 

change  not  produced  by  what  Peewee  just  had 
told  him.  When  he  had  seen  Beman  last  the 
old  man  had  looked  triumphant.  He  did  not 
look  that  way  now;  he  looked  irritated  and 
bothered. 

Beman  pressed  the  bell.  :<  Take  him  away," 
he  directed  when  the  servant  came.  "  Keep  an 
eye  on  him  this  time."  He  gazed  down 
thoughtfully  at  Peewee.  "  It's  a  dam  good 
thing,"  he  commenced,  "  that  you  came  back." 

Peewee,  as  the  servant  led  him  from  the 
room,  twisted  his  head  to  gaze  back  question- 
ingly  at  the  old  man.  He  could  not  have  told 
why  he  had  expected  his  father  to  do  nothing 
against  Lampert  and  had  been  hopeful  of  result 
from  Beman.  The  sidewalks  which,  since  baby 
hood,  had  poured  their  crowds  past  him  had 
taught  him  to  judge  men  instinctively,  and  he 
had  felt,  without  being  able  to  make  it  definite 
in  thought,  that  his  father  could  fight  only  with 
his  own  weapons,  while  Beman  by  preference 
used  the  weapons  of  his  opponent  and  was 
honest  with  honest  men,  crooked  with  crooks. 
He  had  not  known  what  he  anticipated  from 


Back  to  the  Big  House          211 

Beman,  but  it  was  certain  that  what  he  saw  in 
the  old  man  was  not  what  he  had  anticipated. 

The  admonition  to  the  servant  to  keep  watch 
of  him  did  not  disturb  him.  A  boy  who  had 
escaped  from  so  many  institutions  and  climbed 
over  so  many  walls  which  had  broken  glass  on 
top  would  have  no  difficultly  in  getting  out  of 
Beman's  house  when  he  wanted  to,  in  spite  of 
the  servants.  But  in  his  interest  in  what  the 
change  in  Beman  meant  he  did  not  want  to  get 
/mt  of  the  house  yet.  The  manner  of  the  ser 
vants  with  whom  he  dined  told  him  nothing. 
He  appreciated  that  they  were  not  likely  to 
know  that  anything  was  going  on.  He  spent 
the  night  in  the  bed  he  had  had  when  he  was  in 
the  house  before,  and  awoke  with  excitement 
which  increased  as  the  day  progressed.  In  the 
late  afternoon,  the  servant  who  had  charge  of 
him  was  told  to  take  him  to  Beman  in  his  den. 

"  Come  here,"  the  old  man  directed  when  the 
servant  had  left  them. 

Pee  wee  went  near  him  doubtfully.  Beman 
turned  him  so  that  he  faced  the  light  and 
studied  speculatively  his  small  face,  with  its 


212  Peewee 

distinctive,  handsome  nose  and  mouth  and  violet 
eyes  shaded  by  their  long  black  lashes. 

"  How  do  you  like  being  related  to  people? " 
he  inquired. 

Peewee  hesitated.  He  had  been  perfectly 
contented  on  the  streets  before  he  had  learned 
who  his  parents  were.  Mostly  misfortune  had 
come  to  him  from  that  discovery;  but  he  recol 
lected  that  except  for  it  he  would  not  have  met 
Mrs.  Markyn. 

"Who?"  he  inquired. 

:c  Well,  Ben  Lampert  —  he's  your  grand 
father,  ain't  he?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  him?  " 

Peewee  violently  shook  his  head.  He  did  not 
at  once  find  the  words  to  express  his  intense 
dislike  for  the  ex-barn  boss. 

"How  about  Walter  Markyn?" 

Peewee  did  not  know;  he  felt  antagonism 
without  resentment  toward  his  father. 

'  You  look  like  him,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  Peewee  replied. 


Back  to  the  Big  House        213 

"  There's  no  mistaking  that.  Are  you  glad 
that  you're  his  son?  " 

"'No,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  ,You  mean  because  he  wasn't  married  to 
your  mother? " 

"  No,  sir."  The  fact  that  his  birth  was  not  con 
ventional  was  not  a  conscious  burden  to  Peewee. 
He  was  accustomed  to  thinking  of  himself  as  not 
like  others. 

"  What  then?  You'd  be  glad  if  he  had  been 
married  to  her,  wouldn't  you? " 

"  No,  sir." 

"Why  not?" 

Peewee  could  not  answer  that.  He  had  an 
indefinite  feeling  that  it  would  be  an  additional 
misfortune  to  everybody,  including  himself,  if 
his  father  had  been  married  to  his  mother. 

'  Who  told  you  that  he  wasn't  married  to 
her? "  Beman  inquired. 

"He  did." 

"  He'd  have  said  that  anyway,  wouldn't  he?  " 

Did  Beman  mean  that  they  had  been  mar 
ried?  Peewee  was  commencing  to  believe  that 
the  old  man  did  mean  that.  He  perceived 


214  Peewee 

vaguely  that  the  misfortune  which  this  would 
entail  related  to  Mrs.  Markyn.  Would  not  that 
make  his  own  position  toward  her  immensely 
worse.  Exactly  why  his  existence  should  become 
for  that  reason  more  utterly  unforgivable  to  her 
was  not  plain  to  him,  'but  he  felt  that  it  was  a 
fact,  and  his  throat  closed  up  as  he  gazed  at 
Beman  anxiously. 

"  Go  over  there,"  Beman  directed,  "  and  sit 
down." 

Peewee  backed  toward  the  chair  and  drew 
himself  up  on  it,  still  staring  at  Beman  in 
anxiety. 


Chapter  Fourteen 
SHE  NEVER  HAD  A  CHILD 

The  peculiar  understanding  of  one  another 
which  existed  between  the  hard  old  operator  and 
the  boy  made  Pee  wee  appreciate  that  Beman 
was  anxious.  The  old  man  sat  silent,  watching 
the  clock.  When  the  long  hand  had  traveled 
nearly  all  its  way  round,  his  great  head  with 
its  shock  of  snow-white  hair  sunk  toward  his 
chest  as  if  in  disappointment.  He  straightened 
suddenly  and  listened  as  the  doorbell  rang.  A 
servant  appeared  in  the  door  and  Beman 
nodded  to  him  with  relief.  The  servant  retired, 
and  Peewee  stiffened  as  the  big  form  of  his 
grandfather  appeared  in  the  doorway.  The 
man  who  followed  Lampert  was  small,  dapper, 
completely  bald,  with  a  crafty,  hawk-like  face. 
He  was,  Peewee  understood,  the  lawyer. 

Did  Beman  intend  Peewee  to  remain?     He 

215 


216  Peewee 

had  not  sent  him  away.  As  Lampert,  perceiv 
ing  him,  fixed  his  gaze  upon  him,  the  boy 
hitched  away  from  him  nervously  and  stared 
at  him  angrily. 

His  grandfather,  since  Peewee  had  seen  him, 
had  taken  on  still  more  the  look  of  a  man  who 
would  not  work.  He  appeared,  Peewee  saw 
uneasily,  triumphant. 

'  This  is  an  unfortunate  business,  gentle 
men,"  Beman  remarked. 

"  Unpleasant,  Mr.  Beman  —  unpleasant  on 
all  sides,"  the  lawyer  put  in  unctuously. 

"  Beman  — "  Lampert  began.  The  lawyer 
checked  him. 

Peewee  shrank  unhappily.  Beman  was  not 
threatening;  he  was  not  fighting.  Whatever  it 
was  that  he  had  learned  it  had,  apparently,  con 
quered  the  old  man. 

'You  are  Mr.  Rubenwall?"  he  said  to  the 
lawyer. 

"Yes,  Mr.  Beman." 

Peewee  saw  anxiously  that  Beman  waited  in 
a  subdued  way  for  them  to  commence;  when 
they  did  not,  he  was  obliged  to  speak. 


She  Never  Had  a  Child          217 

'  There  is  some  evidence,  I  understand,  which 
you  have  discovered,"  he  conceded. 

The  lawyer  rubbed  his  hands;  he  had  appar 
ently  been  waiting  for  this.  "  Will  you  allow 
me,  Mr.  Beman  to  state  the  facts? " 

"  I'd  be  glad  if  you  would,"  Beman  agreed. 

"  Before  the  death  of  Mr.  Lampert's  daugh 
ter,"  the  lawyer  stated,  "  her  family  had  not 
seen  her  for  some  years.  There  had  been  pre 
viously  a  still  longer  period  when  they  had 
not  known  her  whereabouts.  You  know,  I  have 
been  told,  the  particulars  of  the  discovery  at  the 
time  of  her  death  that  she  had  a  son." 

"  Just  so,"  said  Beman.     "  This  is  the  boy." 

Peewee  moved  uneasily  upon  his  chair  as  all 
three  turned  to  look  at  him.  He  avoided  Lam 
pert's  gaze  and  stared  resentfully  at  Beman. 
Beman's  placating  manner  was  causing  him  bit 
ter  bewilderment. 

"  Mr.  Lampert  had  had  so  little  recent  com 
munication  with  his  daughter,"  the  lawyer  went 
on,  "  that  he  was  as  much  surprised  as  others 
by  the  existence  of  this  child." 

Lampert  seemed  about  to  interrupt,  but  the 


218  Peewee 

lawyer  stopped  him  by  a  gesture.  "  I  speak  of 
this,  Mr.  Beman,  because  Mr.  Lampert's  ignor 
ance  regarding  the  boy  is  one  of  the  reasons 
why  the  discovery  Mr.  Lampert  has  now  made 
was  not  made  earlier.  Two  days  before  she 
died,  Mr.  Lampert's  daughter  sent  for  him  and 
his  wife  and  told  them  about  the  boy.  Follow- 
her  death,  Mr.  Lampert,  as  supposedly  her 
nearest  relative,  assumed  charge  of  his 
daughter  effects." 

Peewee  remembered  that;  his  grandfather 
had  assumed  charge  particularly  of  his  mother's 
rings. 

"  Among  other  things  which  came  into  Mr. 
Lampert's  hands  was,  naturally,  her  trunk.  The 
trunk  contained,  besides  wearing  apparel,  such 
articles  as  a  woman  would  be  likely  to  accumu 
late  in  a  number  of  years  of  —  er  —  nomadic 
life." 

'You  mean  letters?"     Beman  inquired. 

"  There  were,  among  other  things,  a  large 
number  of  letters." 

"From  Markyn?" 

"  None,  so  far  as  Mr.  Lampert  has  yet  found, 


She  Never  Had  a  Child          219 

from  him.  Mr.  Lampert  set  himself  to  the  care 
ful  examination  of  these  letters." 

"  Naturally."  Beman  broke  in.  The  dryness 
of  the  old  man's  tone  gave  Peewee  for  the  first 
time  a  ray  of  hope.  Beman,  it  showed  him, 
was  not  being  fooled.  Beman  comprehended, 
as  clearly  as  Peewee  did  in  his  precocious  wis 
dom,  that  Lampert  had  examined  the  letters  to 
see  if  they  gave  him  a  chance  to  blackmail. 

"  This  examination  took  —  if  Mr.  Lampert 
will  pardon  my  saying  so  —  a  considerable  time 
when  conducted  by  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Lam- 
pert's  limited  education.  Because  of  that,  these 
many  weeks  elapsed  before  Mr.  Lampert  dis 
covered,  enclosed  in  one  of  the  letters  —  with 
which,  however,  it  had  nothing  to  do  —  the 
evidence  to  which,  Mr.  Beman,  you  just  now 
referred." 

"  It  shows,"  Lampert  broke  out  truculently, 
"  that  she'd  ought  to  been  living  with  him  in 
his  big  house  all  the  time;  she'd  ought  to  have 
had  her  servants  — " 

The  lawyer  stopped  him.  Peewee  trembled 
at  the  assurance  of  his  grandfather's  voice. 


220  Peewee 

"Just  what  is  this?"  Beman  asked. 

"  What  Mr.  Lampert  found  was  the  writ 
ten  statement  of  a  minister,  legally  correct,  that 
on  the  eighteenth  day  of  October,  1908,  he  per 
formed  the  ceremony  of  marriage  between  Wal 
ter  Wendell  Markyn  and  Helen  Lampert — " 

"  We've  had  the  thing  looked  up,"  Lampert 
exclaimed.  ;<  We've  found  the  town  and  the 
place  where  the  ceremony  was  done.  She'd 
ought  to  have  been  riding  in  her  automobile  all 
the  time;  she'd  ought  to  have  had  money  to 
send  to  her  folks  and  have  us  to  live  with  her." 

Beeman  listened  silently. 

"As  Mr.  Lampert  says,  our  evidence  shows 
that  Helen  Lampert,  for  more  than  ten  years, 
was  deprived  of  her  marital  rights,"  broke  in 
the  lawyer. 

What,  Peewee  wondered,  were  marital  rights? 

"  Helen  Lampert  is  dead,"  said  Beman.  "  It 
don't  matter  to  her  now  what  she  was  deprived 
of.  What  we're  discussing  here  is  the  effect  of 
this  upon  my  granddaughter." 

"  That  is  why  we  came  to  you,  Mr.  Beman." 

"  Got  this  thing  with  you  that  you  speak  of?  " 


She  Never  Had  a  Child          221 

The  lawyer  took  an  envelope  from  his  pocket. 
Lampert  moved  to  interfere. 

"  You  can  trust  me,"  Beman  assured  him. 

Peewee  thrilled  excitedly.  He  thought  that 
Beman,  if  they  let  him  take  the  paper,  would 
tear  it  up.  He  sank  back  in  disappointment  as 
the  old  man,  having  looked  through  the  writing, 
merely  gave  it  back. 

"  I  ain't  going  to  ask  you  yet  how  much  you 
want  from  me  for  this,"  Beman  remarked.  "All 
I'm  going  to  ask  is,  supposing  I  buy  this  now, 
what's  to  prevent  you  and  Ben  Lampert  from 
sitting  down  and  writing  out  another  one  and 
coming  around  and  expecting  to  sell  me  that 
one  too? " 

Peewee  shook.  Beman  got  up  with  difficulty 
from  his  chair  and  moved  on  his  stiff  old  legs  to 
the  hearth-rug  and  stood  facing  the  two  men. 

"  I  wasn't  sure  about  all  this,"  he  said.  "  He 
might  have  been  fool  enough  sometime  to  marry 
her.  But  now  I  know,  if  this  is  how  you  had 
to  get  at  the  thing,  he  didn't.  So  I  ain't  asking 
you  now  what  more  there  is  you've  got.  You've 
figured  out  about  the  witnesses  and  license,  I 


222  Peewee 

suppose.  Maybe  you  found  some  place  where 
those  things  could  be  faked,  or  where  the  court 
house  and  its  records  had  been  burned.  I  ain't 
interested  in  that.  This  thing  wasn't  made  up 
to  carry  into  court.  It  was  made  to  sell  to 
Walter  Markyn.  When  I  found  that  you  were 
ready  to  sell  to  some  other  buyer  —  that's  me 
—  I  thought  it  probably  was  a  frameup.  If 
you  hadn't  come  here,  I  wouldn't  have  known 
quite  what  to  think.  I've  seen  you  both  here 
now,  and  I've  seen  part  of  what  you've  got. 
That  is  enough  for  me." 

'  We    expected    you    to    do    some    talking, 
Beman." 

"  I'm  doing  it.    You  listen!  " 

Peewee  shivered  at  Beman's  voice  which,  thin 
and  cracked  with  age,  had  become  suddenly  that 
of  the  cold-blooded  operator  who  had  watched 
callously  his  fortunes  fail  or  grow,  who  had 
ruined  twenty  men  and  had  himself  been  ruined 
half  as  many  times  —  of  the  gambler  who  had 
fought  not  only  against  men,  but  had  staked  his 
all  against  drought  and  flood  and  taken  his  toll 
of  dollars  out  of  famine. 


She  Never  Had  a  Child          223 

'  There's  been  a  lot  of  scandal  said  about  me 
in  my  time.  You  might  take  note  there's  never 
been  a  word  or  line  about  my  women  folks. 
Once  long  ago  a  man  came  to  me  and  wanted 
money  not  to  print  some  lie  about  my  oldest 
daughter.  He  didn't  print  it  because  by  the 
next  day  noon  I  would  have  shot  him  dead.  I 
was  a  young  man  then;  I  don't  do  things  now 
in  just  that  fashion." 

'  This  is  a  legal  matter,  Mr.  Beman." 
'  You  listen  to  me.  You're  to  drop  this  talk 
of  Helen  Lampert  and  her  son  entirely.  I 
don't  mean  merely  that  you're  to  keep  it  out  of 
court;  there's  to  be  no  other  kind  of  publicity." 
The  voice  was  clear  and  cold  and  hard  as  ice. 
"  If  you  splash  my  granddaughter's  name  with 
one  drop  of  your  mud,  I'll  ride  you  —  I'll  ride 
you  both.  If  you  don't  know  what  that  means, 
ask  the  boys  on  the  Board  of  Trade  about  other 
men  I've  ridden.  You've  both  got  pasts  that 
won't  bear  looking  into;  most  men  have.  If 
you  haven't,  I'll  make  them  for  you.  Do  you 
get  that?  I  know  what  kind  of  men  I'm  deal 
ing  with;  I'll  make  pasts  for  you.  I've  got  the 


224  Peewee 

money  and  the  influence  and,  old  as  I  am,  I've 
still  got  the  brain  to  bedevil  you  both  until  you'll 
wish  that  you  were  dead.  There'll  be  no  city 
big  enough  and  no  village  small  enough  for  you 
to  hide  in.  The  only  dollar  you'll  ever  get  again 
will  be  by  begging.  You  understand  me? " 

"  We  hear  your  actionable  threats." 

"All  right.    Read  that!" 

He  moved  stiffly  to  the  table,  took  a  paper 
from  the  drawer  and  threw  it  toward  the  lawyer. 
The  lawyer  hesitated,  stooped  and  picked  it  up. 

He  read  it  and  his  hands  dropped  at  his  sides. 

Peewee  watched  him  curiously,  wondering 
what  this  meant. 

"All  right,"  the  lawyer  said.    "  I'm  through." 

Lampert  swore  loudly.  'You're  what?"  he 
asked. 

"  I'm  through.  I  drop  the  case.  You'll  drop 
it  too,  if  you  are  wise." 

Lampert  moved  angrily  to  seize  the  paper, 
but  stopped  at  the  lawyer's  gesture. 

'  You'll  permit  me,  Mr.  Beman,"  the  lawyer 
inquired,  "  to  read  this  to  my  client? " 

Peewee  strained  forward  in  his  excitement  to 


She  Never  Had  a  Child          225 

hear.  He  could  not  distinguish  all,  as  the 
lawyer  read  in  a  low,  rapid  voice;  he  could 
catch  sentences. 

"  State  of  Illinois,  County  of  Cook."     What 
had   that    to    do    with    it,    Peewee    wondered? 

'  Whereas  the  undersigned  Henry  Mellen 
to-day  appeared  before  me."  What  followed 
this  Peewee  could  not  hear.  ..."  De 
ponent  states  he  is,  and  was  upon  the  twelfth 
day  of  .June,  1919,  employed  as  a  physician  in 
the  office  of  the  coroner  of  above  county." 
Peewee's  experience  had  shown  him  what  a 
coroner  was.  More  words  followed  which  he 
could  not  make  out.  ..."  Did  upon  the 
twelfth  day  of  June,  1919,  perform  upon  the 
body  of  one  Helen  Lampert  an  autopsy." 
Peewee  did  not  know  what  that  meant.  He 
caught  other,  but  not  directly  succeeding  words. 
..."  Due  to  suspicion  of  death  by  drugs 
administered  with  murderous  or  suicidal  intent." 
This  was  not  plain  to  Peewee.  ..."  Re 
sulting  in  determination  that  death  had  ensued 
from  natural  causes,  complicated  and  induced 
by  excessive  use  of  alcohol  and  drugs."  There 


226  Peewee 

was  no  understanding  this  stuff,  Peewee  de 
cided.  .  .  .  "All  as  now  upon  file  in  records 
of  the  coroner's  office.  Deponent  further  states 
that  the  above  Helen  Lampert,  upon  whose 
body  he  performed  this  autopsy,  had  never 
borne  a  child" 

Peewee  stared  at  Beman  in  perplexity.  The 
words  of  the  last  sentence,  taken  just  as  words, 
were  plain;  their  meaning  he  could  not  at  first 
make  out.  His  mother,  the  words  said,  had 
not  had  a  child.  But  here  was  Peewee  and 
Lampert,  he  saw,  was  as  perplexed  as  himself. 

"Why  look  at  him!"  Lamport  exclaimed. 
"  Don't  he  look  just  like  his  father? " 

"  But  not  like  your  daughter,"  Beman 
returned. 

Peewee  commenced  to  understand.  Lampert 
—  what  was  it  Beman  had  called  it?  —  forged, 
Lampert  had  forged  a  marriage,  and  Beman 
had  forged  to  beat  him.  He  had  fooled  the 
lawyer,  who  stood  with  his  hands  hanging 
limply  at  his  sides.  He  had,  Peewee  could  per 
ceive  by  Lampert's  manner,  fooled  Lampert 
too.  They  did  not  know  the  truth  so  well  as  he 


She  Never  Had  a  Child        227 

himself  did;  they  had  not  been  there  when  his 
mother,  dying,  had  told  him  that  he  was  her 
son. 

"  We  quit,"  the  lawyer  said  to  Lampert.  "  If 
she  had  no  kid,  what's  to  be  gained?  " 

Pee  wee  understood  still  better.  Beman  had 
not  attacked  the  false  evidence  of  marriage;  he 
had  instead  taken  away  the  stake  for  which 
Lampert  had  played  —  the  claim  on  Walter 
Markyn  through  Peewee's  mother.  Peewee 
was  not  capable  of  putting  this  so  plainly  for 
himself,  but  he  comprehended  the  significance 
of  it  from  the  manner  of  Lampert  and  the 
lawyer.  Lampert,  he  appreciated,  did  not  any 
longer  believe  himself  to  be  Peewee's  grand 
father,  and  Peewee  was  grateful  to  Beman  for 
that,  even  though  he  himself  still  realized  the 
relationship.  Lampert  and  Rubenwall,  still 
examining  the  paper,  were  talking  together  in 
low  tones.  They  did  not  know  that  it  was 
Peewee  who  had  set  Beman  on  them,  and  thus 
indirectly  had  defeated  them. 

Did  what  Beman  had  done  to  them  mean  that 
he  no  longer  intended  that  Mrs.  Markyn  should 


228  Peewee 

be  told?  Peewee,  recalling  the  inexplicable 
change  in  Beman  which  he  had  noticed,  com 
menced  to  think  it  did.  The  old  man  saw  the 
boy  gazing  at  him  and  smiled  dryly  back  at  him, 
and  Peewee  warmed  pleasantly  at  this  sign  of 
understanding  between  them.  He  looked  again 
at  the  two  men  and  back  at  Beman  as  he  stood 
upon  the  hearthrug  —  massive,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  his  back,  his  old  legs  wide  apart 
and  his  great  head  pushed  forward.  Then  he 
sidled  off  his  chair  and  went  and  stood  beside 
him,  clasping  his  small  hands  behind  his  back 
and  putting  his  short  legs  wide  apart  like  him, 
and  the  two  watched  as  the  servant  showed 
Lampert  and  Rubenwall  out. 


Chapter  Fifteen 
THE  LONESOMENESS  OF  CROWDS 

When  the  sound  of  the  closing  of  the  outer 
door  reached  them,  Beman  looked  down  at 
Peewee  sharply. 

'  Well,"  he  demanded,  "  what  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

Peewee  decided  that  Beman  wanted  to  be 
congratulated  upon  his  cleverness. 
'We  fooled  them,"  he  replied. 

The  old  man  was  gazing  at  him  queerly. 
"  You  don't  believe  it  then? " 

"What,  sir?" 

"  That  she  was  not  your  mother?  " 

Was  Beman  trying  to  fool  Peewee,  too,  the 
boy  wondered,  or  was  he  merely  trying  to  find 
out  whether  Peewee  was  as  smart  as  he  himself 
was?  So  long  a  time  had  passed  that  Peewee 
had  forgotten  the  doubts  he  had  had  when 

229 


230  Peewee 

Helen  Lampert  had  first  told  him  he  was  her 
son. 

"  She  told  me,"  he  answered  conclusively. 

Beman's  manner  changed  to  one  of  indecision 
such  as  Peewee  never  had  seen  in  him  before. 
He  seemed  about  to  speak  and  then  quite  as 
obviously  changed  his  mind.  Peewee  admired 
Beman  without  having  any  confidence  in  him; 
the  comprehension  of  one  another  which  existed 
between  them  did  not  encourage  trust  on  the 
part  of  either. 

He  did  not  know  definitely  why,  after  leav 
ing  the  room  and  going  part  way  down  the 
hall,  he  turned  around  and  came  back  noise 
lessly  to  look  in  at  the  door  and  see  what  the 
old  man  was  doing. 

Beman  was  standing  by  the  table  and  had 
taken  up  the  affidavit  and  was  looking  it 
through  carefully  and  with  an  appearance  of 
perplexity  as  though  it  was  something  which  he 
found  it  hard  to  understand.  He  shook  his  big 
head;  finally  he  locked  the  paper  solicitiously  in 
the  table  drawer.  Was  it  possible  Beman  him 
self  believed  the  affidavit?  His  consideration 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds    231 

of  it,  which  seemed  to  indicate  this,  amazed 
Peewee. 

Peewee  had  intended  to  leave  the  house  at 
the  first  opportunity  and  go  back  to  the  streets. 
Now,  as  he  went  slowly  up  the  stairs  toward 
the  room  which  they  called  his,  he  was  not  so 
certain  he  would  do  that.  It  was  clear  that  if 
Beman  believed  the  affidavit,  there  was  nothing 
he  could  tell  Mrs.  Markyn. 

Beman  on  the  next  day  received  several  visi 
tors.  Peewee  was  not  able  to  catch  sight  of  all 
these  people,  and  those  whom  he  did  see  he  did 
not  recognize.  Some  other  person  was  admitted 
on  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day.  Peewee 
had  not  seen  this  person  admitted,  but  in  pass 
ing  through  the  upper  hall  he  heard  voices.  One 
of  these  was  Beman's  voice;  the  other,  he  was 
almost  certain,  was  that  of  Jeffrey  Markyn 
Third,  his  uncle.  Peewee  went  excitedly  part 
way  down  the  stairs  to  listen.  He  had  learned 
that  the  men  of  the  Markyn  family  came  to 
Beman's  very  seldom.  It  was  almost  certain, 
therefore,  that  if  the  man  in  the  library  was 
Jeffrey  Markyn,  Mrs.  Walter  Markyn  was  the 


232  Peewee 

subject  of  their  conversation,  Peewee  reasoned. 

The  door  from  the  library  into  the  hall  was 
closed;  the  voices  reached  him  circuitously 
through  an  adjoining  room  whose  door  was 
evidently  open.  But  it  was  unmistakable  now 
that  the  deeper  and  more  readily  distinguished 
voice,  which  spoke  in  answer  to  Beman's,  was 
Jeffrey's.  Peewee  did  not  dare  to  remain  lis 
tening  on  the  stairs  because  of  the  servants  who 
passed  frequently  through  the  hall  below.  He 
went  on  downstairs  into  the  front  room  below 
and  seated  himself  on  the  window  sill  behind  the 
curtains.  He  would  be  thought  by  anyone  who 
saw  him  there  to  be  merely  looking  out  at  the 
window,  and  now  he  could  hear  the  voices 
plainly. 

"  But  Walter  acknowledged  the  boy,"  Jeffrey 
was  saying,  incredulously. 

Peewee  in  his  interest  strained  to  listen. 

"  He  appears  to  have  done  that  merely  on  the 
statement  of  the  woman."  This  was  Beman's 
strong  old  voice,  slightly  cracked  with  age. 

"  The  woman,"  Peewee  comprehended,  could 
not  be  Mrs.  Markyn;  Beman  would  have  called 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds    233 

her  "  Marion."     He  was  not  yet  certain  who 
"  the  woman  "  might  be. 

"I've  talked  with  the  nurse  " —  Beman's  voice 
was  going  on  —  "  the  one  who  was  taking  care 
of  her  when  she  died.  Had  her  here  yesterday 
and  talked  with  her.  The  coroner's  physician 
came  here  too  —  they'd  already  got  an  affidavit 
from  him  for  me,  and  what  he  said  bore  out  that 
statement  completely." 

It  was  plain,  then,  that  "  the  woman  "  was 
Peewee's  mother.  He  recalled  suddenly  the 
kind-faced  nurse  in  her  striped  dress  who  had 
paced  outside  the  bedroom  door  while  his  mother 
was  talking  with  him,  and  had  come  in  and 
freed  him  from  the  grasp  of  her  thin,  hot 
hands.  He  had  almost  forgotten  the  nurse. 

"  The  nurse  "  —  Beman  was  speaking  still  — 
"had  figured  out  the  circumstances  as  they 
must  have  been.  There  wasn't  anybody  she 
could  state  her  conclusions  to.  The  boy  had 
disappeared  and  she  didn't  know  Walter's 
name." 

"  She  agrees  with  the  coroner's  man? " 

"  That's  not  the  question.     The  statement  of 


234  Peewee 

the  coroner's  man  that  the  woman  had  never 
borne  a  child  isn't  controvertible." 

Peewee  clenched  his  small  hands ;  this  talk,  he 
thought,  was  hard  to  understand. 

"  The  nurse  simply  worked  out  an  explanation 
of  the  circumstances.  They  don't  class  the  case 
as  exceptionally  remarkable;  it's  just  from  their 
point  of  view,  a  drug  addict  case.  The  nurse's 
name  is  Sandsby;  she's  had  a  lot  of  experience 
and  was  called  to  attend  this  Helen  Lampert  a 
week  before  the  woman  died." 

The  hard  wrords,  Peewee  realized,  were  fewer 
in  this  last;  if  they  would  use  common  words  he 
could  get  at  the  meaning  of  their  conversation. 
"  The  nurse  says  the  woman  talked  freely  to 
her.  Her  talk  wasn't  always  sane;  she  was  an 
excessive  drug  user.  The  nurse  says  the 
woman  talked  continually  about  a  boy.  The 
nurse  didn't  get  the  impression  from  her  at 
first  that  she  believed  the  boy  to  be  her  son. 
All  she  told  the  nurse  in  the  beginning  was  that 
she  had  employed  a  private  police  agency  to 
look  the  boy  up.  It  was  after  the  agency  had 
reported  to  her  that  she  told  the  nurse  the  boy 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds    235 

was  her  son  who  had  been  taken  from  her  by 
the  courts  while  he  was  still  a  baby.  She  had 
lost  trace  of  him  afterward,  she  said,  through 
some  confusion  of  the  court  records." 

"  That  was  what  Walter  said,"  was  Jeffrey's 
reply. 

"  Because  the  woman  told  him  that.  The 
nurse  didn't  see  the  police  agency  report.  She 
believes  now,  from  some  things  the  woman  said 
to  her  at  the  time,  that  it  stated  no  more  than 
that  the  boy's  parentage  was  unknown.  The 
woman,  the  nurse  says,  had  been  deeply  in  love 
with  Walter  —  that  is,  as  she  puts  it,  with  the 
man  who  came  there  afterward.  The  nurse 
doesn't  know  any  of  the  names,  except  that  of 
the  Lampert  woman.  I  didn't  tell  her  any  of 
them,  either.  The  woman  never  hoped  to  marry 
him,  of  couse.  After  the  affair  had  been  broken 
off,  she  left  Chicago.  The  nurse  thinks  it  was 
because  she  couldn't  bear  to  stay  where  she  was 
continually  thinking  she  might  see  him.  She 
lived  in  other  cities.  The  life  she  was  leading 
and  the  drugs  she  used  finally  broke  her  down 
and  she  returned  to  die  here  where  her  family 


236  Peewee 

lived.  Coming  back  here  of  course  revived  her 
memories  of  her  love  affair.  Besides  that,  she 
saw  Walter  one  day  on  the  street,  without  his 
noticing  her.  That  was  before  the  nurse  went 
to  her,  but  she  told  of  it.  The  nurse's  theory  is 
that  the  woman  had  regretted,  after  Walter's 
breaking  off  with  her,  that  she  had  not  had  a 
child,  and  the  sight  of  him  renewed  that  regret. 
She  was  getting  weaker  and  less  responsible 
mentally  all  the  time.  Later  she  saw  this  news 
boy  and  was  struck  by  his  resemblance  to  Walter, 
and  her  drug-crazed  brain,  the  nurse  thinks, 
suggested  all  the  rest." 

Peewee  twisted  his  small  body  on  the  window- 
sill,  perplexed. 

"Suggested  what?"  This  was  Jeffrey's 
voice. 

"  That  he  was  the  child  whom  she  wished  to 
have.  The  police  report,  which  could  give  no 
other  parents  for  the  boy,  did  not  contradict  her 
hallucination.  Subsequently  her  insanity  sup 
plied  the  circumstances  necessary  to  account  for 
her  separation  from  him.  That  is  the  nurse's 
theory." 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds    237 

Peewee  shivered.  He  did  not  recall  that  when 
the  woman,  pressing  her  cracked  and  burning 
lips  on  his,  had  told  him  that  he  was  her  son, 
the  feeling  which  she  had  given  him  was  that 
she  was  "  nuts."  He  had  heard  his  father  ac 
knowledge  the  truth  of  what  she  said.  Then 
other  people  had  acknowledged  it.  He  had  for 
gotten  his  first  impression  in  his  conviction  that 
it  was  so.  But  if  he  understood  Beman  correctly, 
they  all  had  been  merely  "  nuts." 

Jeffrey   was   speaking. 

"But  you  don't  agree  then  with  the  nurse? " 

"As  to  the  woman's  motives,  you  mean?  "  This 
was  Beman.  "  It  may  have  been  that  way,  of 
course.  On  the  other  hand,  it  may  have  been 
revenge.  When  this  Helen  Lampert  saw  Walter 
she  may  have  seen  Marion  too.  The  contrast 
between  Marion  and  herself  —  poor,  hard  up 
and,  she  may  have  known,  dying  —  must  have 
been  bitter  for  her.  Afterward  she  saw  the  boy 
and  noted  the  resemblance  and  learned  that  noth 
ing  was  known  about  him.  She  may  very  well 
have  felt  that  here  was  the  chance  for  her  to  re- 


238  Pee  wee 

venge  herself  on  Walter  by  claiming  the  boy  as 
her  son." 

"  That  seems  more  probable." 

"  The  woman's  motive  does  not  matter,"  Be- 
man  continued.  "  The  nurse  was  there  when 
the  woman  sent  for  her  father  and  told  him  about 
the  boy.  She  saw  Walter,  too,  when  he  came 
there  and  the  woman  told  him  they  had  a 
son  about  whom  she  had  never  let  him  know, 
and  she  saw  the  boy  afterward  when  he  was 
brought  there.  There  was  no  reason  for  the 
nurse,  or  for  any  of  the  others,  to  doubt  the 
woman's  story." 

"Not   even   considering   her   insanity?" 

"  Her  insanity  was  not  evident,  and  the  like 
ness  appeared  to  confirm  what  she  said.  Have 
you  seen  the  boy? " 

"  No." 

"  He  looks  exactly  like  Walter ;  you  can't 
imagine  two  faces,  feature  for  feature,  more 
nearly  the  same." 

"  Good  God!  There  can't  have  been  still 
some  other  woman  in  Walter's  life  besides  this 
one  and  Marion?" 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds   239 

Peewee  stood  up,  shrinking  anxiously. 

'  You  don't  understand.  I'm  not  thinking 
about  Walter  or  Marion  now.  I'm  thinking 
about  Edith."  This  was  Beman. 

"  Edith !  Great  heavens !  You  don't  sup 
pose  — " 

There  was  silence  in  the  library;  for  the  mo 
ment  nothing  more  followed  this  astonished  ex 
clamation,  and  Peewee  was  no  longer  listening  to 
conversation  which  had  already  given  him  more 
than  he  could  easily  understand.  The  chief 
fact  of  this  was  clear:  Helen  Lampert  had  been 
merely  "  nuts  "  or  had  been  lying.  It  followed 
that  the  man  who,  on  the  evidence  of  what  she 
had  told  him,  had  admitted  his  parentage  of 
Peewee  was  not  his  father. 

He  perceived,  as  he  comprehended  this,  the 
extent  of  the  mistake  resulting  from  what  the 
woman  had  said.  It  had  made  Walter  Markyn 
give  the  Lamperts  money  to  keep  them  quiet 
about  Peewee;  it  had  made  Mrs.  Markyn  un 
happy  and  anxious;  it  had  caused  anxiety  to 
Jeffrey  Markyn  and  to  Beman.  That  fierce  old 
man  —  who,  Peewee  had  learned,  took  revenge 


240  Peewee 

upon  whoever  deceived  him  —  had,  under  his 
misapprehension,  taken  him  into  his  own  house 
and  given  him  new  clothes  and  had  him  cared 
for.  Now  that  the  deceit  of  this  was  known  to 
them,  what  would  they  do  to  the  boy  who  had 
made  them  suffer  so  unnecessarily? 

He  noted  with  uneasiness  that  the  silence 
caused  by  what  had  been  last  said  in  the  library 
continued.  If  they  were  through  talking  and 
were  to  come  out,  they  might  see  through  the 
curtains  against  the  light.  He  ran  out  of  the 
room  into  the  hall,  and  backed  watchfully  up  the 
stairs,  eyeing  the  library  door  until  he  could 
no  longer  see  it.  He  listened,  as  he  continued  to 
back  through  the  upper  hall.  This  brought  him 
to  another  stairhead,  whose  winding  steps  led 
down  to  the  servants'  quarters.  Someone  was 
undoubtedly  moving  in  the  front  hall;  it  might 
or  might  not  be  merely  a  servant;  he  thought 
the  person  was  beginning  to  come  upstairs.  He 
dashed  precipitately  down  the  servants'  stair, 
out  at  the  rear  door,  across  the  court  and 
through  the  passageway  between  the  buildings 
opposite.  He  sped  down  Astor  Street  to  the 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds   241 

first  cross  street  and  doubled  back  to  the  Lake 
Shore  Drive.  No  one  had  come  out  at  the 
front  door;  no  one,  so  far  as  the  evidence  of 
the  cross  street  went,  appeared  to  have  -followed 
him  from  the  rear.  He  walked  away,  still  gaz 
ing  back  at  the  house. 

His  chief  reason  for  staying  at  Beman's  had 
been  that  he  could  expect  to  see  Mrs.  Markyn. 
There  had  been  good  food  there  too,  and  a 
nice  place  to  sleep.  But  except  for  these  things 
he  had  no  very  definite  personal  feeling  over 
what  he  had  heard.  He  had  resented  his  rela 
tionship  to  Walter  Markyn,  because  it  inter 
fered  between  him  and  Walter's  wife.  Wouldn't 
he  ever  see  her  any  more?  She  would  not,  he 
thought,  have  the  same  anger  against  him  as 
the  others ;  perhaps  he  could  wait  where  she  took 
her  walk,  and  she  would  talk  with  him,  and 
perhaps  kiss  him,  without  feeling  that  he  had 
to  have  anyone  to  take  care  of  him. 

He  had  in  his  pocket  the  five  dollar  bill  which 
she  had  given  him.  He  found  a  small  store  in 
which  only  a  woman  was  waiting  upon  cus 
tomers  and  got  her  to  change  it.  The  paper 


242  Peewee 

money  he  wrapped  in  a  piece  of  newspaper, 
making  a  careless  looking  package,  and  the 
silver  he  put  in  his  trousers'  pocket.  He  was 
beginning  to  think  eagerly  about  the  "loop." 
Were  the  boys  there  whom  he  had  known  be 
fore?  Which  of  them  had  been  sent  to  institu 
tions  and  schools,  and  which  had  managed  to 
avoid  the  authorities? 

He  followed  the  alleys  south  to  the  river  and 
crossed  Wells  Street  bridge.  A  clock  on  a 
corner  told  him  that  it  was  four  o'clock;  he  had 
no  reason  therefore  to  fear  truant  officers  or 
police  within  the  "  loop."  The  roar  of  uninter- 
mitted  traffic  and  sidewalks  so  crowded  that  he 
had  to  dodge  between  the  legs  of  pedestrians 
filled  him  with  delight.  He  went  south  to 
where  the  wagonmen  were  delivering  the  boys 
their  papers  and  stood  watching.  He  was  not, 
he  realized,  fitly  dressed  for  business  while  in  the 
clothes  which  Walter  Markyn  had  given  him. 
He  noted  behind  a  truck  in  the  mouth  of  the 
alley  a  boy  absorbedly  counting  pennies,  who 
was  about  his  own  size  and  dressed  in  comfort 
able  old  clothes  with  holes  at  the  elbows  and  the 


The  Lonesomeness  of  Crowds    243 

knees;  and  he  went  guardedly  up  to  face  him. 

"  Trade  you  clothes,"  he  offered. 

The  boy  surveyed  him  in  astonishment. 
"  What's  the  big  idea,  kid? "  he  inquired. 
"  Gone  dippy? " 

"No,  I  ain't." 

The  boy  felt  of  Peewee's  clothes  incredu 
lously.  "  You  ain't  game,"  he  urged. 

They  exchanged  clothes  behind  the  truck, 
and  the  other  boy  seizing  the  coat  without  wait 
ing  to  put  it  on,  dashed  swiftly  away  down  the 
alley,  apprehensive  that  some  authority  might 
interfere  with  the  exchange.  Peewee  went  to 
the  wagonman  and  got  his  papers.  The  sensa 
tion  of  clothes  which  someone  else  already  had 
worn  gave  him  a  feeling  of  liberty  which  he  had 
not  enjoyed  since  his  incarceration  on  the  farm. 
He  felt  himself  —  without  analyzing  this  feel 
ing  —  a  part  of  the  city  again,  as  the  sparrows 
were  a  part.  Nobody  except  small  boys  paid 
any  heed  to  the  sparrows,  and  nobody  except 
boys  would  pay  any  heed  to  him. 


Chapter  Sixteen 
WHO  IS  MRS.  CORD? 

Peewee  was  disappointed  to  find  that  the 
place  on  Madison  Street  which  formerly  had 
been  recognized  as  his  was  now  occupied  by 
another  boy.  The  boy's  much  larger  size  for 
bade  any  attempt  to  deprive  him  of  his  post 
by  force,  and  Peewee  was  obliged  to  take  a 
block  further  west,  where  there  were  not  so 
many  people  passing. 

Women  had  always  been  his  best  customers; 
they  were  now.  When  he  saw  one  approaching, 
he  held  out  a  paper  and  raised  his  big  blue  eyes 
under  their  long  black  lashes  appealingly.  He 
had  enjoyed,  when  he  sold  newspapers  before, 
watching  the  effect  of  this  on  the  women  —  to 
see  their  inattentive  expression,  as  they  glanced  at 
him,  change  suddenly  to  tenderness  and  pity  and 
to  have  them  buy  papers  which  probably  they  did 

244 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  245 

not  want.  This  look  upon  women's  faces  now 
gave  him  an  indefinite  unhappiness ;  he  thought 
of  Mrs.  Markyn  when  he  saw  it.  A  man  almost 
as  old  as  Beman  stopped  and  bought  a  paper. 
Was  he,  Peewee  wondered,  a  grandfather? 
Beman,  if  Mrs.  Markyn  had  had  children, 
would  have  been  a  great-grandfather.  What 
was  Beman  doing  now?  What  was  Walter 
Markyn  doing,  now  that  he  had  found  out  that 
Peewee  was  not  his  son? 

When  he  had  been  on  the  streets  before,  he 
had  found  happiness  in  watching  for  the  unex 
pected  things  that  happened.  People  had 
poured  past  as  if  they  had  emerged  out  of  blank 
space  and  disappeared  into  blank  space  again, 
and  he  had  been  satisfied  merely  to  speculate 
upon  what  kind  of  people  they  were.  He  found 
something  almost  painful  now  in  that  kind  of 
speculation.  He  felt  vaguely  that  the  people  or 
the  streets  had  changed.  It  did  not  occur  to 
him  that  the  change  was  in  himself;  that  he  had  . 
been  before  without  origin  and  without  attach 
ment,  ah  atom  floating  in  the  gutters,  but  that 
now,  for  several  months,  he  had  been  thinking 


246  Peewee 

of  himself  as  a  member  of  a  family.  His 
"  father  "  had  proved  not  to  be  his  father,  his 
"  mother  "  not  his  mother.  They  had  revealed 
to  him,  however,  the  feelings  of  relationship. 

Peewee  felt  for  the  first  time  the  lonesome- 
ness  of  crowded  streets.  At  seven  o'clock,  when 
children  had  to  be  outside  the  "  loop,"  he  gave 
his  papers  to  the  man  who  had  a  newstand  on 
the  corner  —  the  wagonmen  would  not  take  "  re 
turns  "  —  and  went  west  on  Madison  Street  to 
Halsted.  A  sudden  hopefulness  came  to  him  at 
sight  of  Halsted  Street,  more  crowded  at  this 
hour  than  any  other.  The  moving  picture  shows 
were  open,  with  their  entrances  brilliant  with 
electric  lights;  family  parties  —  parents  with 
children  —  were  going  in.  He  had  money  and 
he  followed  a  party  in.  He  did  not  know  why 
he  did  not  find  satisfaction  in  the  picture,  but 
watched  instead  a  stout  woman  who  was  ex 
plaining  it  to  a  little  boy  and  girl.  He  came  out 
when  the  show  was  over,  and  moved  slowly 
south.  At  ten  o'clock  he  was  at  Halsted  Street 
and  Twelfth  and  sat  down  upon  the  curb  to 
observe  a  basement  entrance.  A  disreputable 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  247 

looking  man,  advancing  along  Twelfth  Street, 
knocked  at  the  basement  door  and  was  let  in. 
The  uses  of  the  place,  then,  were  the  same  as 
when  he  had  been  on  the  streets  before.  Peewee 
descended  to  the  basement.  An  old  man,  en 
crusted  with  dirt,  to  whom  he  gave  three  cents, 
admitted  him  to  a  space  under  the  sidewalk 
where  some  people  were  already  sleeping.  He 
spread  newspapers,  which  the  old  man  provided, 
and  lay  down.  He  was  not  comfortable  and  the 
place  was  filled  with  disagreeable  odors. 

He  bought  rolls  in  the  morning  in  a  delica 
tessen  and  walked  east  on  Twelfth  Street,  eat 
ing  them.  The  contrast  between  Beman  and 
the  old  man  with  whom  he  had  lodged  occurred 
to  him,  and  he  thought  that  Beman  now  had 
got  up  and  was  eating  breakfast  with  a  knife 
and  fork.  The  morning  was  growing  warm  and 
beyond  the  buildings  and  the  railroad  tracks 
where  the  cross  streets  ended,  boys  were  bathing 
in  the  lake.  He  crossed  the  tracks,  and  took 
off  his  clothes  and  made  a  bundle  of  them.  He 
dug  a  hole  in  the  sand,  put  the  clothes  into  it, 
put  a  piece  of  board  over  the  hole  and  covered 


248  Peewee 

it  with  sand.  Protected  thus  against  the  loss 
of  the  clothes,  or  the  impounding  of  them  if  a 
policeman  came,  he  dived  and  romped  with  the 
other  boys. 

He  did  not  know  why  the  satisfaction  which 
he  found  in  this  disappeared  as  afternoon 
approached. 

When  it  grew  late  enough,  he  went  to  the 
"  loop "  to  get  his  papers.  He  stood  a  long 
while  watching  the  wagonmen,  but  made  no 
move  to  get  any  papers,  and  finally  walked 
slowly  north.  He  did  not  consciously  plan 
where  he  was  going,  but  presently  he  saw  the 
Lake  Shore  Drive  and  Beman's  house.  He  sat 
down  on  the  esplanade  across  from  the  house, 
looking  at  it.  He  knew  now  that  he  wanted  to 
go  back  to  Beman,  but  he  knew  also  that  this 
was  impossible  because  of  Beman's  anger. 

The  connection  between  himself  and  Beman, 
when  he  had  believed  himself  the  son  of  Walter 
Markyn,  had  been  attenuated;  still  there  had 
seemed  then  an  actual  connection.  That  he  was 
the  son  of  Beman's  granddaughter's  husband 
had  given  him  a  certain  right  to  be  in  the  house. 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  249 

Only  people  related  to  Beman,  he  realized,  had 
that  right. 

He  got  up,  unhappily,  after  a  while,  and 
walked  away.  When  he  had  gone  a  little  dis 
tance,  he  stopped,  hesitated  and  went  back. 
Again  he  got  up  and  went  away,  and  again  he 
came  back.  As  he  returned  this  second  time, 
he  observed  on  the  sidewalk  across  the  drive 
from  him  a  man  keeping  pace  with  him.  The 
character  of  the  man  was  unmistakable  —  he 
was  a  plain-clothes  officer,  a  "  flat-foot"  —  and 
the  sight  of  him  drove  the  thought  of  Beman 
out  of  Peewee's  head.  Was  the  man  watching 
him?  He  walked  on  past  the  house  a  distance 
and  turned  back.  The  man  also  turned  back. 
Peewee  considered  his  position.  He  was  be 
tween  the  "flat-foot"  and  the  lake;  as  long  as 
the  officer  kept  opposite  him  there  was  no 
chance  of  escape.  He  picked  up  a  pebble  and 
threw  it  ahead  of  him  and  ran  after  it  as  if 
chasing  it;  when  he  had  reached  the  pebble,  he 
continued  still  to  run.  The  man  opposite  now 
broke  into  a  run  also,  crossing  the  drive  diago 
nally.  Peewee  dodged  back;  the  man  turned 


250  Peewee 

back  also,  his  diagonals  bringing  him  continu 
ally  nearer  as  Peewee  darted  back  and  forth, 
until  they  forced  the  boy  to  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
There  the  man  seized  him. 

'You  H.  Seabury?"  he  demanded. 

Peewee  did  not  reply.  He  decided  that  what 
had  happened  to  him  was  that  he  had  been 
retaken  by  the  Juvenile  Court.  So  he  stiffened 
with  surprise,  as  the  man  led  him  across  the 
drive  toward  Beman's  and  rang  the  bell. 

The  servant  who  admitted  them  led  the  way 
to  Beman's  den. 

"This  the  boy?"  the  officer  asked,  pushing 
Peewee  in. 

"  That's  the  one,"  Beman  replied. 

"  I  thought  he  must  be.  He  was  hanging 
around  outside  here,  looking  at  the  house." 

Peewee  stared  at  Beman  defiantly.  What 
form  would  Beman's  punishment  of  him  take? 
The  old  man  looked  sternly  at  him. 

'  What  were  you  hanging  around  outside 
for? "  he  inquired. 

There  was  less  sternness  in  Beman's  voice 
than  in  his  look.  It  encouraged  Peewee  to  find 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  251 

that  the  old  man  did  not  seem  angry  with  him. 

"  I  thought  I'd  like  to  come  back  here?  "  he 
offered. 

He  could  not  tell  the  effect  of  this  on  Beman. 
The  old  man  got  up  and  stood  before  the  fire 
place,  while  he  seemed  to  consider  something. 

"Anybody  ever  offer  to  adopt  you? "  he 
asked. 

The  mildness  of  his  tone  gave  still  further  en 
couragement  to  Peewee.  "  No,  sir,"  he  said. 

Adoption,  as  a  fact,  was  known  to  him, 
though  not  the  complete  particulars  of  the  proc 
ess.  A  person  picked  out  the  prettiest  child  in 
an  institution,  and  certain  formalities  followed, 
which  were  vague  to  Peewee.  Following  that, 
the  person  said  to  the  child,  "  Now  you  must  call 
me  'mother,'  or  'father.' ' 

"What  would  you  think  of  that?"  Beman 
questioned. 

Peewee  did  not  answer.  He  could  not  con 
ceive  of  Beman's  adopting  him,  and  the  old  man 
seemed  to  read  the  beginning  of  that  thought 
and  hastened  to  forestall  it. 

"  Not  me,"  he  offered.     "  Someone  else." 


252  peewee 

Peewee's  pulse  beat  quickened.  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  Beman  meant  that  Mrs.  Markyn 
might  adopt  him? 

"Who?"  he  asked. 

"Mrs.  Cord." 

Peewee  shook  his  head  angrily  in  his  disap 
pointment.  He  recalled  the  picture  in  the  bed 
room  upstairs.  Mrs.  Cord  was  a  pretty  lady, 
but  he  had  no  wish  to  be  adopted  by  someone 
whom  he  did  not  know. 

"  The  proposition  doesn't  interest  you?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Peewee. 

"  You're  willing  to  stay  here  for  a  while  now 
though,  ain't  you? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

The  question  was  apparently  a  dismissal. 
Peewee  backed  to  the  door,  and,  as  Beman 
made  no  motion  to  detain  him,  then  backed  on 
out.  He  heard  Beman's  voice  in  some  unin 
telligible  conversation  with  the  "  flat-foot,"  who 
presently  went  away.  Then  he  sat  by  the  front 
window,  where  he  could  see  Mrs.  Markyn  if  she 
came,  considering  what  Beman  had  said  to  him. 
Adoption,  it  was  clear,  did  not  make  the  person 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  253 

actually  his  mother.  It  implied,  he  felt  sure, 
that  he  would  have  to  live  with  her,  however. 
He  did  not,  he  felt,  want  to  go  and  live  with 
Mrs.  Cord.  He  went  up,  after  a  while,  to  look 
at  the  portrait  on  the  dresser.  She  did  not,  he 
felt,  attract  him.  What  he  wanted  was  to  live 
where  he  could  see  Mrs.  Markyn. 

He  noted  uneasily  that  he  dined  alone  instead 
of  eating  with  the  servants  as  he  had  when  he 
was  here  before.  Did  this,  taken  in  connec 
tion  with  the  queer  way  that  Beman  had  looked 
at  him,  mean  that  the  adoption  was  to  take 
place  in  spite  of  him?  When  he  had  finished 
dinner  he  went  back  to  the  window.  It  was 
growing  dark ;  a  thin  mist  had  come  in  upon  the 
city  from  the  lake,  through  which  the  boulevard 
lamps  and  the  automobile  lights  glowed  Eazily. 
He  had  decided  that  Mrs.  Markyn  would  not 
come  so  late,  when  a  limousine  stopped  before 
the  house  and  Walter  Markyn  got  out.  There 
was  a  woman  in  the  motor  with  him.  She  was 
not,  Peewee  realized,  Mrs.  Markyn;  the  indis 
tinct  glimpse  he  had  of  her  —  pretty,  delicate, 
blond-haired  —  told  him  that  it  was  Mrs.  Cord. 


254  Peewee 

It  was  a  relief  to  him  when  the  car  drove  on 
with  her,  and  Walter  came  into  the  house  alone 
and  was  shown  into  the  library. 

Peewee  vibrated  between  the  hall,  where 
voices  from  the  library  could  be  heard,  in  the 
library,  and  the  window.  His  anxiety  increased 
as  he  observed  by  the  light  of  the  street  lamp, 
the  "  flat-foot"  returning  to  the  house  in  com 
pany  with  another  man.  The  other's  appear 
ance  was  only  less  definitely  official.  At  the 
door  they  exchanged  inaudible  words  with  the 
servant,  who  knocked  at  the  library  door  and  let 
them  in. 

Peewee  retreated  tentatively  part  way  up  the 
stairs.  He  would,  if  it  proved  that  he  was  to 
be  adopted  in  spite  of  himself,  use  the  same 
line  of  escape  which  he  had  used  before  and  get 
out  at  the  back  door.  He  went  further  up  the 
stairs,  but  halted  doubtfully  as  the  doorbell  rang 
again  and  Jeffrey  Markyn  and  Mrs.  Walter 
Markyn  were  let  in.  Would  they  have  had 
Mrs.  Markyn  here  and  not  Mrs.  Cord,  if  they 
were  proceeding  with  the  adoption?  What  was 
happening  was  incomprehensible,  he  thought. 


Who  Is  Mrs.  Cord?  255 

The  door  of  the  library  had  remained  open  and 
he  heard  Beman's  voice  in  some  unintelligible 
suggestion,  which  Jeffrey  appeared  to  oppose; 
then  Beman's  voice  again  more  loudly:  "No; 
have  him  in."  Beman  came  out  into  the  hall 
and  looked  about  for  Peewee.  "  Come  down 
here,"  he  directed,  seeing  him  on  the  stair. 

Peewee     descended,     steeling     himself     for 
trouble. 


Chapter  Seventeen. 
IN  HIS  MOTHER'S  ARMS. 

The  lack  of  trust  which  Pee  wee  had  in  Be- 
man  now  thrust  itself  upon  him  disturbingly. 
He  looked  apprehensively  about  the  room,  as 
the  old  man  led  him  in  and  the  door  was  closed 
behind  them.  Jeffrey  Markyn  came  toward 
him  and  put  his  finger  under  Peewee's  chin  and 
turned  his  small  face  up  and  studied  it.  He 
looked  from  it  to  his  brother,  where  he  sat  be 
side  Mrs.  Markyn,  holding  her  hand.  She 
smiled  in  a  strained  way  to  greet  the  boy.  She 
was  very  pale.  What  had  they  said  to  her, 
Peewee  wondered,  that  had  made  her  look  like 
this?  Beman,  still  holding  Peewee  by  the  hand, 
seated  himself  in  his  big  chair  and  drew  the  boy 
between  his  knees. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Rollins,"  he  invited. 

The  man  who  had  come  with  the  "flat-foot" 

256 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  257 

seemed  to  Peewee  something  between  a  police 
man  and  a  clerk.  "  Mr.  Beman  knows  I  haven't 
been  able  to  gather  much  on  this,"  he  said.  "  It's 
too  long  ago  —  six  years.  The  officer  here, 
who  was  the  one  that  picked  up  the  kid,  had  for 
gotten  the  circumstances,  until  I  showed  him  the 
record  of  the  court.  I've  got  a  summary  of 
that  here." 

Peewee  stared  suspiciously.  Was  he  the  kid? 
"  Listen,"  Beman  commanded  in  his  ear. 

"  He's  a  tough  kid,"  the  man  commented,  "if 
you  come  to  that.  He's  run  away  from  every 
home  they  put  him  in.  He  run  away  from  the 
Greenwood  Boys'  Home,  which  not  many  run 
away  from.  Before  that  he  run  away  from  the 
orphan  asylum.  That's  how  the  court  came  to 
send  him  to  the  Home." 

"  Begin  at  the  beginning  of  the  record,"  Be 
man  said. 

"All  right."  The  man  referred  to  a  paper. 
"  The  officer  took  the  kid  up  on  Cottage  Grove 
Avenue  near  Thirty-fifth  Street,"  he  said.  "  He 
remembers  that  part  perfectly." 

"  That's  right,"  the  policeman  put  in. 


258  Peewee 

"  He  took  him  to  the  Cottage  Grove  Avenue 
station." 

"What  date?"  Beman  suggested. 

"  January  17,  1915.  He  was  held  at  the  sta 
tion  until  the  nineteenth,  expecting  somebody 
would  claim  him.  They  most  always  do  with 
lost  kids.  He  couldn't  tell  his  name  or  where 
he  lived,  and  there  weren't  any  marks  on  his 
clothing.  That's  right?" 

"  That's  right,  the  policeman  assented. 

"  On  the  nineteenth,  nobody  claiming  him, 
he  was  turned  over  to  the  Juvenile  Court.  The 
court  judged  him  to  be  two,  or  maybe  a  little 
under  two  years  old,  and  he  was  assigned  tem 
porarily  to  St.  Anthony's  Orphan  Asylum,  ex 
pecting  someone  related  to  him  would  turn  up. 
Nobody  did,  and  a  year  later  he  was  brought  in 
court  again  on  the  ground  that  for  the  records 
of  the  asylum  he  ought  to  have  a  name.  The 
court  gave  him  the  name  H.  Seabury  —  no 
record  of  what  is  stood  for  by  '  H'." 

"Do  you  remember  that?"  Beman  asked  of 
Peewee. 

"  No,  sir,"  Peewee  said. 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  259 

"  Don't  remember  having  a  name  given  you 
in  court? " 

Peewee  squirmed  combatively.  What  did  all 
this  mean?  Why  was  he  expected  to  remem 
ber?  He  could  not  understand  what  was  going 
on.  "  No,  sir,"  he  said. 

"Don't  remember  this  policeman  taking  you 
up?" 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Don't  remember  being  lost?  " 

Peewee  looked  at  Mrs.  Markyn.  She  was 
paler  than  before;  her  blue  eyes  were  wide  and 
fixed  eagerly  upon  him.  If  she  wanted  him 
to  remember,  he  wished  that  he  could. 

"  Let  me  try  with  him,"  she  said  to  Beman. 

She  drew  him  away  from  the  old  man  and 
held  him  against  her  knee.  Her  touch,  as 
always,  filled  him  with  incomprehensible  feel 
ings.  He  stared  distrustfully  at  the  men  but 
pressed  closer  to  her.  She  was  affected,  too; 
her  hands  shook  as  they  clasped  him,  her  tem 
ples  whitened  and  her  eyes  shone  nervously. 

"  We'll  begin,"  she  suggested,  "  with  things 
that  you  do  remember  and  see  if  then  you  can't 


260  Peewee 

remember  back.  You  told  me,  you  know,  that 
you  didn't  know  who  your  parents  were." 

":Yes'm,"  he  admitted. 

"  But  that  —  that  woman  had  told  you  that 
she  was  your  mother  and  had  told  you  who  she 
said  your  father  was." 

He  winced  and  gazed  at  her  unhappily. 
They  had  told  her,  then,  about  the  woman. 
She  must,  he  comprehended,  if  she  knew  that, 
know  all  the  rest.  It  was  not  quite  clear  to 
him,  since  the  woman  had  proved  not  to  be  his 
mother,  what  the  effect  of  this  upon  her  must 
be.  Didn't  it  matter  to  her  now?  He  felt 
vaguely  that  there  must  still  be  pain  of  some 
sort  in  it  for  her,  but  she  had  forgiven  her  hus 
band,  it  appeared,  for  she  had  let  him  hold 
her  hand. 

"Why  did  you  tell  me  that?"  she  asked 

He  hesitated,  doubtful  whether  to  tell  her 
the  truth.  He  might,  he  decided,  do  that  now, 
since  the  other  things  were  known  to  her. 
"  They  said  it  would  spoil  your  life  to  know 
about  me,"  he  confessed. 

She   appeared   not   to   understand.     Walter 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  261 

Markyn  moved  as  if  startled,  and  seemed  about 
to  speak.  Beman  scrutinized  Pee  wee  curiously. 
The  old  man  seemed  to  puzzle  over  something 
and  suddenly  to  comprehend,  and  raised  his 
hand  to  check  Walter.  "  Let  her  go  on,"  he 
commanded. 

"Spoil  my  life?"  she  echoed.  "I  don't 
know  what  you  mean." 

Peewee  felt  relief.  He  had  not  been  con 
scious  that  the  necessity  he  had  had  of  lying  to 
her  about  himself  had  made  him  feel  his  separa 
tion  from  her  until  now  when  the  need  for  that 
had  been  removed. 

"  I  was  at  the  house,"  he  confided. 

"The  house?"  She  drew  her  straight,  dark 
brows  together,  puzzled. 

"  I  went  there  after  my  —  after  that  woman 
told  me  where  he  lived."  He  pointed  at  Wal 
ter.  "  They  were  talking  there,  and  they  said 
it  would  spoil  your  life  to  know  about  me,  so 
I  went  out  and  shut  the  door  and  went  away." 

"My  God!  "said  Jeffrey. 

The  woman  comprehended.  She  drew  him 
closer,  her  lip  trembled  and  her  eyes  filled  sud- 


262  Peewee 

denly  with  tears.  "You  did  that!"  she 
breathed.  *  You  went  away  so  that  I  wouldn't 
know!  And  afterward  you  refused  to  tell  about 
yourself  because  of  that!  And  you  so  little  and 
so  friendless  and  without  a  home!  Oh,  my 
dear,  my  dear!  But  that  isn't  what  I  meant. 
When  you  said  to  me  that  you  didn't  know 
your  parents,  wasn't  it  a  little  —  just  a  little 
bit  because  you  didn't  believe  the  woman  when 
she  said  she  was  your  mother?  " 

He  reflected.  It  was  not  easy,  now  that  he 
knew  Helen  Lampert  was  not  his  mother,  to 
recall  what  he  had  felt  about  her  before.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  he  had  thought  her  "  nuts," 
not  because  she  said  she  was  his  mother,  but  be 
cause  of  the  wildness  of  her  manner  and  the  inco 
herence  of  her  speech. 

"  No'm,"  he  told  her. 

"You  believed  what  she  told  you?" 

"  Yes'm." 

"  You  didn't  have  any  memories  at  all  which 
made  you  think  that  perhaps  you  ought  not  to 
believe  her?" 

He  could  not  understand  this. 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  263 

"  No'm,"  he  said,  after  an  interval. 

"  It  didn't  make  you  think  back  to  anybody 
else  when  she  told  you  that  she  was  your 
mother? " 

"  No'm." 

The  woman  paused  uncertainly,  looking  about 
with  damp  eyes  questioningly  at  the  others. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  accomplished  this 
way,"  Jeffrey  answered  to  her  look.  "  We're 
asking  the  impossible  of  the  boy.  A  child  of 
two  couldn't  possibly  hold  such  memories  for 
such  a  length  of  time  and  after  experiences  such 
as  this  boy  has  gone  through." 

"  That's  right,"  Beman  replied  to  him.  "  It 
must  be  accepted  only  as  a  possibility.  The 
dates  coincide  —  the  night  of  January  16  and 
the  morning  of  the  seventeenth.  An  unclaimed 
child  found  that  morning  on  the  street  has 
grown  in  the  years  between  to  look  exactly  like 
Walter.  Anything  more  definite  than  that  you 
simply  must  assume.  There  were,  we  know, 
other  babies  in  the  same  car.  The  body  of  the 
burned  child  was  unrecognizable.  There  were 


264  Peewee 

other,  burned,  unrecognizable  bodies.  You  can 
assume  if  you  want  that  the  child  belonged  to 
one  of  them,  that  the  nurse  had  picked  up  some 
other's  baby  —  not  necessarily  by  mistake.  She 
may  have  been  unable  to  reach  the  child  and 
tried  to  save  the  first  other  child  that  offered. 
You  can  say  that  the  substitution  never  was 
suspected,  that  Edith's  child,  escaping  in  some 
way,  wandered  off  and  was  found  next  morning 
by  the  police  officer.  But  it's  nothing  but  as 
sumption.  It  never  can  be  proved.  It  might 
warrant  adoption  —  " 

The  woman,  still  clasping  Peewee,  looked  up 
at  him.  "  It  does,"  she  asserted.  "  It  warrants 
more  than  that,  even  though  we  can  never  have 
absolute  conviction." 

What  was  going  on  was  incomprehensible  to 
Peewee.  He  heard  the  words  that  Beman  and 
Mrs.  Markyn  said,  but  they  conveyed  no  mean 
ing  to  him.  Some  child,  at  some  time,  had  been 
burned  to  death  in  a  train  wreck.  The  unfor 
tunate  fate  of  this  child  seemed  to  give  Peewee 
warrant  for  his  own  anxiety  on  trains.  Who, 
he  wondered,  was  Edith?  Was  she  Mrs.  Cord? 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  265 

Was  this  some  other  adoption  they  were  talking 
of?  What  he  perceived  was  that  whatever  was 
happening  was,  in  its  progression,  drawing  him 
more  intimately  to  Mrs.  Markyn.  She  held  him 
closer ;  there  was  tenderness  and  protection  in  her 
clasp.  He  enjoyed  this,  but  continued  to  regard 
the  men  with  suspicion. 

He  felt  a  sudden  loss  as  she  stood  up,  releas 
ing  him  abruptly.  Looking  up,  he  saw  her, 
white  now  as  death,  a  light  of  excitement  shin 
ing  in  her  eyes,  and  her  full  lips  set  tight 
together.  She  looked,  he  thought,  like  someone 
to  whom  some  startling  memory  had  just  oc 
curred.  She  left  him  and  went  hurriedly  to 
Beman  and  spoke  to  him  in  low  tones,  eagerly. 

Peewee  could  catch  only  the  words,  "  I  have 
a  letter — " 

The  old  man,  listening  to  her,  frowned  doubt 
fully.  Peewee  had,  incomprehensibly,  the  feel 
ing  that  she,  in  need  of  help,  had  turned  to  that 
violent,  harsh  but  capable  old  man,  as  he  himself 
had  once  done.  What  help?  Jeffrey  and 
Walter  had  gone  closer  to  them  to  listen. 
Beman  drew  the  police  officer  aside  and  spoke 


266  peewee 

to  him.    The  officer's  reply  was  clear  to  Peewee. 

"  Sure  I  can  get  him.    Now?  " 

"  My  car's  outside,"  said  Jeffrey.    "  Use  it." 

The  policeman  went  quickly  out,  motioning  to 
the  other  man,  who  followed  him. 

"  I'll  go  for  the  letter  myself,"  said  Mrs. 
Markyn.  "  Walter,  come  with  me." 

They  too  went  out.  Peewee  heard  the  closing 
of  the  entrance  door,  the  sound  of  motors,  and 
stared  doubtfully  at  the  two  men.  Beman,  his 
gray  old  cheeks  a  little  flushed,  waited  in  his 
great  chair;  Jeffrey  paced  nervously  up  and 
down,  halting  now  and  then  to  exchange  words 
inaudibly  with  Beman.  Peewee  wanted  to  ques 
tion  Beman,  but  decided  not  to  commit  himself 
by  doing  so.  The  long  hand  of  the  clock  moved 
half  way  round  before  he  heard  the  front  door 
again  and  the  policeman  entered  followed  by 
another  man,  whom  Peewee  felt  sure  was  a 
policeman  too.  The  new  man  greeted  Beman 
and  Jeffrey  as  though  he  did  not  know  them 
and  opened  a  handbag  which  he  carried  and  laid 
articles  out  upon  the  table  —  ink  and  a  little 
pad  and  oblong  cards  with  words  in  small  print 


In  His  Mother's  Arms          267 

along  the  edge  of  them.  Mrs.  Markyn  and 
Walter  came  in  hurriedly.  The  man  took  the 
folded  note  paper  which  Mrs.  Markyn  gave  him 
and  opened  it  out  under  the  library  lamp  and 
looked  at  it  through  a  magnifying  glass. 

"  It  ain't  so  bad,"  he  said.  "  Much  better 
than  you  ought  to  expect  to  get  under  such  cir 
cumstances.  Come  here,"  he  ordered. 

Peewee  hesitated;  Jeffrey  gently  pushed  him 
toward  the  stranger. 

"  It's  the  left  hand,"  the  man  directed.  He 
took  Peewee's  small  left  hand  and  rolled  his 
fingers  one  by  one  upon  the  pad  and  then  upon 
one  of  the  cards.  "  Let's  try  again,"  he  said, 
repeating  the  process. 

The  conversation  of  the  streets  had  taught 
Peewee  that  they  took  the  finger  marks  of 
criminals  like  this.  He  did  not  know  exactly 
why  they  took  his  but  he  resented  it.  Did  they 
think  he  had  done  something?  He  looked  across 
the  man's  arm  at  the  letter  which  Mrs.  Markyn 
had  brought,  and  conceived  a  certain  contempt 
because  of  its  beginning  — "  My  dearest,"  it 
began.  A  corner  of  the  sheet  was  black  with  ink, 


268  Peewee 

and  half  way  down  the  page  were  five  queer 
blots  with  a  pencil  mark  around  them  which 
made  a  little  hand.  It  was  less  easy  for  him  to 
read  handwriting  than  print,  but  he  spelled  out 
the  words  written  close  about  the  hand:  "  He's 
been  sitting  in  my  lap,  dear,  while  I  wrote  and 
he  tipped  over  the  ink  bottle;  when  I  started 
to  write  again,  I  found  the  prints  of  his  five 
little  fingers  on  the  page,  so  I  put  his  hand  back 
the  way  it  had  been  and  marked  around  it  for 

you." 

Jeffrey  drew  Peewee  back  from  the  table. 
The  man  took  the  cards  that  he  had  made  and 
put  them  close  beside  the  letter  and  looked  at 
them  through  a  magnifying  glass. 

The  clock,  ticking  very  slowly  indeed,  be 
came  audible  in  the  room.  Jeffrey  kept  hold  of 
Peewee;  Walter  walked  nervously  up  and 
down;  Beman  sat  still;  Mrs.  Markyn  strained 
forward  across  the  table. 

What  was  it,  Peewee  wondered  suspiciously, 
that  was  going  on?  The  excitement  in  all  of 
them  was  clear  to  him. 

"  There's  three  of  them,"  the  man  remarked, 


In  His  Mother's  Arms          269 

"  that  ain't  good  enough  to  go  by,  but  the 
index  and  the  middle  finger  are  plain." 

The  clock  ticked  on  again  interminably.  The 
man  looked  up  at  Mrs.  Markyn  and  she  leaned 
eagerly  toward  him. 

"  They're  the  same,"  he  said  decisively. 

Peewee  heard  Jeffrey's  voice:  "My  God! 
think  of  the  strangeness  of  the  thing!  That 
woman,  crazed  with  drugs  or  with  desire  to  re 
venge  herself  on  Walter,  picked  the  boy  up  upon 
the  street  because  of  his  likeness  to  Walter  and 
sends  him  to  us,  and  he  proves  to  be  Edith's 
baby!  No  wonder  they  say  God  moves  in  a 
mysterious  way ! " 

"  What's  stranger  "  —  this  was  Walter  —  "  is 
the  attraction  Edith  has  had  for  him.  The  boy 
has  shown  feeling  toward  her  and  toward 
nobody  else." 

"  That's  not  necessarily  strange."  Beman 
was  speaking.  "  He  had  been  with  his  mother 
until  he  was  almost  two  years  old.  It's  unques 
tionable  that  some  unconscious  memory  of  her 
must  have  been  left  in  him.  He  didn't  know, 
of  course,  why  she  attracted  him  like  that." 


270  Peewee 

Peewee  did  not  find  any  meaning  in  these 
words.  Mrs.  Markyn  was  coming  toward  him. 
She  stumbled  slightly,  as  if  from  weakness,  as 
she  crossed  the  floor. 

"  Wait!  "  Walter  warned  her.  "  He  doesn't 
understand.  He  thinks  you're  Marion." 

She  stared  at  him  as  if  trying  to  find  sense 
in  what  he  said  to  her. 

"  I  didn't  know  that  until  just  now,"  Walter 
made  clear  to  her.  "  When  you  were  speaking 
to  him  of  himself,  he  said  that  it  was  for  your 
happiness  that  he  hadn't  wanted  you  to  know 
about  him.  You  didn't  realize  what  he  meant 
by  that.  I'd  talked  with  him,  of  course;  you 
had  too.  I  can't  remember  that  he  ever  spoke 
your  name.  I  assumed  it  was  my  wife  that  he 
had  met  and  talked  with  because  he  said  so.  Of 
course  I  never  dared  to  speak  of  him  before 
her.  The  place  he  saw  you,  too,  was  at  my 
house.  When  you  brought  him  here  —  " 

"  The  talk  was  short,"  Beman  broke  in.  "The 
boy's  mistake  is  clear  enough.  I  saw  it  too. 
He's  too  bewildered  now  to  understand." 

The   woman  controlled  herself.     Her  body 


In  His  Mother's  Arms  271 

quivered  as  she  drew  Peewee  to  her  and  clasped 
him  with  her  trembling  arms.  Her  sweet  blue 
eyes  showed  comprehension  now,  shining 
through  tears  and  strangely  deep  and  tender, 
as  she  fought  her  feelings  down. 

"Dear,  how  did  you  find  out  who  I  was?" 

He  wanted  to  remember  that  if  it  would 
please  her. 

"  I  saw  your  picture." 

"  Yes,  dear.  Where  was  it?  Did  it  have  my 
name  on  it?  Tell  me  about  the  picture." 

"  It  was  in  the  newspaper." 

He  was  trying  to  recollect. 

There  had  been  two  pretty  ladies  in  the  news 
paper  picture  —  this  one  and  the  woman  he  had 
seen  for  the  first  time  to-night,  when  she  had 
leaned  from  the  limousine  to  speak  to  Walter 
and  then  had  driven  on.  Their  names  had  been 
below. 

"  It  said  Mrs.  Walter  Markyn,"  he  replied. 

"Yes,  dear." 

"And—."  He  hesitated.  "And  Mrs.  Cord," 
he  said. 

"  Who  told  you,  dear,  which  one  was  I? " 


272  Peewee 

He  could  not  answer  that.  Something  new 
to  him  and  incomprehensible,  which  had  stirred 
within  him  at  her  pictured  face,  had  centered  all 
his  interest  on  her.  He  had  choked  to  think 
how  pretty  she  was,  with  what  tenderness  and 
sweetness  in  her  look,  and  he  had  coupled  the 
name  which  he  had  supposed  to  be  his  father's 
unquestioningly  with  her. 

He  gazed  at  her  doubtfully. 

"  Try  to  understand.  I  am  not  Mrs.  Markyn. 
She  was  the  other  one.  The  other  name  be 
longed  to  me.  I  was  Edith  Markyn  once;  now 
I  am  Mrs.  Cord." 

He  had  trouble  comprehending  this  reversal 
of  his  thought.  Everything  he  had  done  re 
garding  her  since  he  first  had  seen  her  had  been 
because  he  had  believed  her  to  be  Walter's  wife. 
He  merely  stared  at  her,  as  she  kept  on  talking 
to  him. 

She  was  talking  now,  it  appeared,  about  the 
other  child  —  the  one  who  had  been  burned. 
That  child's  father,  Peewee  gathered,  had  been 
a  naval  officer.  In  gun  practice  —  whatever  that 
might  be  —  off  some  place  called  Porto  Rico,  he 


In  His  Mother's  Arms          273 

and  other  men  had  been  injured  by  an  explo 
sion.  The  child's  mother  —  Peewee  was  not  yet 
sure  who  that  was  —  had  been  at  the  time  in 
New  York  with  her  baby  but  no  other  member 
of  her  family.  Obliged  to  hasten  to  her 
wounded  husband,  she  had  sent  the  child  in 
charge  of  its  nurse  to  her  family  in  Chicago. 
The  train  was  wrecked  on  the  Lake  Front  and 
the  car  that  they  were  in  was  burned.  The  body 
of  the  nurse  was  found  with  a  dead  child  whom 
fire  had  made  unrecognizable  clasped  in  her 
arms. 

It  was,  Peewee  recognized,  unfortunate  for 
the  woman;  she  had  lost  both  her  husband  and 
her  child. 

He  rather  liked  the  naval  officer's  name  — 
Lieutenant  Arthur  Cord.  The  child's  name  too 
had  been  Arthur.  As  he  reflected  on  these 
things,  her  feelings  broke  from  her  control. 

"  Baby,  baby,  don't  you  understand?  I  am 
your  mother,  darling  boy  —  your  mother!" 

He  felt  her  kisses  on  his  cheeks  and  mouth; 
her  lips,  which  had  felt  always  cool  and  sweet 
before,  were  hot,  burning  almost  as  Helen  Lam- 


274  Peewee 

pert's  cracked,  puffed  lips  had  burned  him.  She 
clutched  him  as  she  controlled  her  sobs. 

"  I'd  brought  back  with  me,  dear,  your 
father's  things  —  even  my  own  letters  which  he 
had  saved.  I'd  kept  them  all  these  years. 
Thank  God  for  that,  for  on  one  of  them  were 
the  print  marks  of  your  baby  fingers.  Except 
for  those  we  never  could  have  been  sure." 

He  was  not  sure  that  he  wanted  her  to  be  his 
mother.  What  he  wanted  was  that  she  should 
be  toward  him  as  she  had  always  been,  and  he 
did  not  know  exactly  how  a  mother  was.  Edith 
raised  her  eyes,  bright  with  her  tears,  to  Beman. 

"And  except  for  you,"  she  said  to  the  old 
man,  "  we  never  should  have  found  out  about 
him." 

"  It  was  the  likeness,"  Beman  said.  "  In 
quiry  about  the  woman  led  me  to  the  coroner's 
man.  When  he  told  me  she  had  never  had  a 
child  the  boy's  likeness  to  Walter  became  inex 
plicable.  Then  the  boy's  record  showed  the 
coincidence  of  dates.  It  is  no  more  remarkable 
for  him  to  look  like  his  uncle  than  if  he  had 
looked  like  his  father." 


In  His  Mother's  Arms          275 

"  How  much  about  the  boy  does  Marion 
know? "  Jeffrey  inquired. 

"  Nothing."  Walter  raised  his  head.  He 
had  been  sitting  with  his  face  buried  in  his 
hands.  "  She's  never  even  heard  of  him.  We 
have  the  boy  himself  to  thank  for  that."  He 
flushed,  looking  at  his  brother  and  his  sister. 
"A  man's  past  rises  up  to  strike  at  him  —  " 

"  It's  buried  now  with  Helen  Lampert,"  Jef 
frey  replied.  He  looked  at  Beman,  and  the  old 
man  nodded. 

The  manner  of  the  men  toward  Peewee  had 
changed.  There  was  frankness  in  their  look  and 
liking.  He  perceived  the  difference  in  them 
without  understanding  it  at  first,  and  still 
looked  at  them  suspiciously. 

But  he  was  commencing  to  adjust  himself. 
These,  he  recalled,  were  members  of  his  family. 
He  was  the  grandson  of  the  "  city-builder," 
the  great-grandson  of  the  still  older  Jeffrey 
Markyn.  He  thought  of  the  great  houses  in 
which  the  family  lived.  He  would  be  free,  he 
understood,  to  go  in  and  out  of  those  houses. 
He  would  ride,  he  foresaw,  in  their  motors, 


276  Peewee 

and  now  certainly,  if  he  asked  it,  they  would 
let  him  drive  the  car.  His  heart  beat  more 
quickly  at  this  last  thought. 

He  saw  Jeffrey  smiling  at  him,  and  returned 
the  smile.  He  stood  still  within  his  mother's 
arms.  He  looked  at  Walter.  Suddenly  a 
sense  of  possession  came  to  him  in  her  and  in 
his  uncles. 

The  End. 


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